


Of Monsters and Mayham

by Lady_of_Inklings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Blood and Gore, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Duke Viktor Nikiforov, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Witch Katsuki Yuuri, Witchcraft, Witches, minor tho - Freeform, victorian au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Inklings/pseuds/Lady_of_Inklings
Summary: Yuuri Katuski is a young witch working in Leroy's Magical Book Emporium for some extra money, he doesn't expect much but some old dusty books and a few unruly pixies.Somehow, he ends up with a lovesick Duke and a serial killer on the loose.Just his luck.





	1. The Start of a Truly Terrible Day

# Third Victim in Series of Gruesome Murders

### By: Cao Bin

> While many slept peacefully through the night, a gruesome murder had taken place. 

> Marie Tambaram, aged 32, was found by her housekeeper in the early hours of the morning, her screams alerted the cook who then alerted the steward who then proceeded to alert the local police of the murder. 

> A local Doctor made an examination of the woman and pronounced her as to have been brutally murdered based on the excess of knife wounds on her breast, stomach, and abdomen. There were 15 wounds total in various parts of the body.

> The body of Marie Tabram had been moved to a hospital mortuary where expert will try gather more clues to see if this murder was the work of this cities latest sensation: The Lonely Heart Killer. Many public officials including the Chief of Police, Anred Donavich, and Mayor Eckhart, have vehemently denied that these strings of murders are the work of a serial killer. They opt for a shepherd like approach, blind to the recent dive in public opinion regarding these murders.

> As for Marie Tambaram, her body still remains in the morgue and her killer remains at large.

> Will The Lonely Hearts Killer strike again or will the police finally stop chasing cold leads? It is only a matter of time until then we can only watch and wait.

### 

Yuuri feels a cold hand grip his heart as he reads the latest article the Kingsons Morning Post had cooked up.

It's springtime in the city, flowers bloom like stars and pedestrians litter the street like ants enjoying the cool breeze before the sweltering sun of summer bears down on them. The air smells of dirt, smoke, and burning gaslights——a typical day for most but not for Yuuri Katsuki. The weather is too fair, the sun shines only on the brightest part of the city easily hiding away its more grisly and mottled underbelly.

A new murder rocks the city to its knees and with no news of the investigation progressing, the city is slowly becoming restless; it had been the same as the previous to victims, no signs of a struggle and bodies fresh as dew. Whoever the murderer was, they were quick and they didn't bother to hide the bodies once they were done. 

Several people speculated that this was the start of brand new killing spree but Yuuri knew better, this was no ordinary serial killer. He had seen the state of the bodies, after all, nobody could forget the fresh taint of blood in the air or the sight of a mangled corpse. Yuuri counted himself fortunate that his stomach was made of stronger stuff lest he ruins the crime scene with his lunch.

His thoughts circle back to The Lonely Hearts Killer, he always thought that was a stupid name but the press was having a field day with scaring the public. 

Someone calls out his name as Yuuri crosses the street. He snaps his head up, stopping as he swivels his head to search for the source of that oh so familiar voice.

It is truly going to be a terrible day. 

The barreling omnibus tumbles his way as he crosses the street, the sounds of hooves echoes like thunderclaps and Yuuri finds that he is frozen and unable to move. His mother always said that death came swiftly, he screwed his eyes shut hoping that it wouldn't be a messy death. He thinks stupidly if his death would make it into the newspapers. 

But it seems death doesn't want anything to do with his this morning. It takes only seconds for someone to reach out and yank him out of the way. He lands unceremoniously on the ground but is otherwise unhurt, the only thing bruised is his ego....and perhaps his elbows. 

The newspaper is plastered to the ground, a crumpled mess of letters and mud.

"Yuuri?"

He looks up to meet concerned blue eyes that make him feel like curling into a ball and disappearing. It's also the fact that his rescuer is no other than the Viktor Nikiforov that causes his heart wedges itself in his throat cutting off whatever Yuuri had planned to say. (He is doing a marvellous impression of a gaping fish.) 

"Mr. Katsuki?" Viktor extends his hands, the white gloves he wears are pristine and without a smudge of dirt on them. Yuuri eyes them, uncertain if he should dirty them with his muddied hands. "Are you alright?"

He feels himself colour, starting from the tips of his ears down to the root of his neck.

How embarrassing, he thinks.

"I'm well," Yuuri splutters, duking his head as he takes ahold of Viktors hand allowing himself to be pulled upright. He tried not to think of how strong the older man was or how firm his fingers were curled around his, and his definitely does not think about how it would feel to hold that very hand that supported him. Nor does he think of his cologne, how sweet the scent of pine and winter is, unobscured by the unsavoury smells and smog of the city streets. No, not at all. "T-thank you, Lord Nikiforov."

"That's was a nasty fall, I'm sorry if I pulled you too hard." Yuuri's hands remain in his as Viktor gives him a quick look over, his eyes lingering in the patches of dirt stuck to the back of his pants and knees. Most would take offence at the small action but Yuuri only feels self-conscious. "I wasn't thinking, it was a spur of the moment decision. I saw the omnibus and I---"

"No, it's perfectly fine," Yuuri said, sheepishly. He pulls his hands away from his clasped fingers. "I should've been more vigilant. My own clumsiness could've gotten me killed."

"That omnibus driver should've been more careful, not you." Viktor looked unconvinced, his blue eyes narrowing in on Yuuri's face. The gaze isn't intense nor is it intrusive but Yuuri can't help but find his scuffed boots suddenly interesting. "Are you certain you are alright, Mr. Katsuki?"

"Positively so, Lord Nikiforov." He peeks through his eyelashes, feeling small. Yuuri dares to glace around himself, noticing the crowd gathering around them, lingering on the curb of the street whispering in hushed tones. He flushes even deeper, hating the feeling of the stares levelled against him.

They're not staring at him, of course, they're staring at Lord Nikiforov; some with wonder and others with curiosity. He must look rather dull standing next to him. Lord Nikiforov was a striking and alluring figure with the exotic silver hair and large blue eyes, his presence alone held anybody's attention. Yuuri knew he needed to get away, no doubt that this incident would be in the papers by noon tomorrow.

Anything Lord Nikiforov did ended up in the papers somehow, savoury or not. (Not that Yuuri knew it anything, he just happened to stumble across articles pertaining to Viktor Nikiforov.)

_Duke Nikiforov Saves Hairbrained Pedestrian From Barreling Omnibus._

He represses a shudder, what a truly terrifying thought. Lady Minako would have his head on a silver platter if that was to happen.

"I'm afraid I have to go, Lord Nikiforov," Yuuri says, rushing the words out. He bows stiffly, nearly tripped as he gathers his things, feeling even more mortified. He can scarcely look him in the eye lest he salvages whatever dignity he had left. "Thank you for saving me."

_"Yuuri!"_

And then he turns sharply on his feet, ignoring the odd looks and flees like a deer during a fox hunt. He doesn't even stay to hear Lord Nikiforov call out his name.

 

 

It's truly was the start of a terrible day.

First Lord Nikiforov and then the sudden sludge of rain. He didn't know what deity or fae or higher being he had snubbed or disrespected but they must have found some glee in his suffering.

Yuuri walks into Leroy's Magic Book Emporium, drenched from head to toe due to the sudden downpour of rain that arrives only fifteen minutes after his encounter with Lord Nikiforov. He feels already exhausted and the day has barely begun.

Phichit is already there to greet him, a Cheshire like grin decorating his face and a glint of mischief in his eyes that can never be hidden. If Yuuri was to squint and perhaps see past the thick shimmering coat of glamour, he could faintly make out a cat-like tail swishing back and forth like a pendulum.

"Your demeanour is far too cheerful for today," Yuuri tells his companion flatly before he could utter a word.

"Yuuri!" He stretches out the constants of his name, almost cooing it. Phichit's pointed ears twitch, ignoring the flattened look Yuuri gives him to match his tone. "How was Lord Nikiforov this morning?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Yuuri sighs, slipping off his overcoat. He lets it hang from the coat rack, water droplets splashing onto his shoes and onto the floor. No doubt Ms. Isabella would give him hell for sullying her rugs with rainwater. That was fine, Yuuri could simply dry them with a quick spell before she arrived. If only he knew where he placed his copy of Leroy's Housecleaning Spells for the Daily Witch. "I assume the pixies told you everything, haven't they?"

Damned little things, always sticking their noses into other people's business. Yuuri had half a mind to grab a broom and chase them out of the shop but they were expert in the art of wooing his soft heart over with their big glassy eyes and adorable little pouts.

"Oh, Lord Nikiforov! My hero! My Knight in shining armour! My darling Rose?" He presses the back of his hand to his forehead, pretending to swoon as he lands clumsily on the nearby chaise. Yuuri is half tempted to laugh at Phichits horrible impression of himself but his lips remained pressed in a thin line. "Thank you so much for saving me! Oh, _however_ could I repay you?!"

"I'm certain I'm not a Damsel in Distress." Yuuri snorts, picking up a stack of books to be reshelved. He nearly trips over one of Phichits pet rodents that scuttle around and gnaw away at pages. The fattest one, Arthur, gives him a dirty look before disappearing underneath the floorboards. "Nor do I dare assume that Lord Nikiforov would want anything from me. He is, after all, a man that has everything in the world."

"Oh, I digress."

"Really now, Phichit." He said. There is little he can do to stop the words that come from his mouth. "This again?"

"Yes, this again!"

"You sound like some miser." Yuuri rolls his eyes. "Please do impart your knowledge onto me, oh wise guardian of Leroy's Magic Book Emporium."

"Isn't it obvious, Yuuri?" Phichit groans. He levels the older man with a knowing look that feels admonishing. "Must I spell it out?!"

"If it was obvious, he'd know!" A voice from the back room pipes up. Mr. Altin appears, precariously balancing a number of boxes as he speaks. "It's been the talk of the ton for almost a year now, Mr. Katuski."

("You hush now, young Altin!")

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Yuuri said, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Am I missing something important? And since when do you indulge in high society gossip, Mr. Altin? I thought you found it unpleasant."

"I believe Mr. Plisetsky may be responsible for that," Phichit chimed in. He glances at Mr. Altin, aware of the tinge of red that adorns his cheeks. "But that's not my story to tell now, is it?" He said slyly, a teasing grin making its way onto his face. 

The two gentlemen promptly exchange a knowing look before resuming their tasks.

Phichit turns his attention back to him, grinning ear to ear. 

His answer nearly sends Yuuri's poor heart close to an early death. "Your _hand_ , my sweet ignorant magical friend. He wants your hand in marriage." 

"Impossible," Yuuri is quick to dismiss the idea before it takes root in his mind. It's outlandish and completely ridiculous. He scuttles down the ladder, nearly rolling his ankles in his haste. He ignores the way his heart hammers loudly in his chest, thudding almost painfully against his ribs as Phichit continues to rile him up. "That's impossible."

What a silly notion, he thinks as he restocks the shelves carefully, Lord Nikiforov is just.......kind.

"Do kind men usually ogle at one's backside shamelessly when the latter isn't looking?" Phichit muses, perching over one of the stools. "I don't blame him," He sighs. 

"Phichit!" He ducks his head behind the large stack of books, realizing that he said his thoughts out loud. Yuuri is half tempted to chuck a rather large copy of Leroy's Book of Herbs for Cosmetic and Magical Needs at his head. It's the only book in the shop that was big enough other than the Witch's Potions Index (and Mr. Leroy's ego) that could do any real damage. Anything bigger and he expected Phichit to be bedridden for weeks. It's only his fondness toward his friend and years of dealing with Mari's endless teasing that keeps him from doing so.

"Well, clearly the man is parched, Yuuri!" Phichit exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Save him lest he dies of dehydration!"

Yuuri sighs deeply, again. "He is not a dog, Phichit."

"But he does follow you around like one," Mr. Altin said. His face remains impassive but there is a wisp of a teasing smile that adorns his usually stoic face. Traitor, Yuuri thinks. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping my boundaries but he seems quite besotted with you."

("Thank you, young Altin! You understand!")

"Et tu, Mr. Altin?" Yuuri huffs.

Yuuri shakes his head gently as he reshelves the spell books, aiming to put aside thoughts of Lord Nikiforov. He gently swats away the little fluff balls of magic and mischief that glide through the shop, the pixies settle on his shoulders as they whisper amongst themselves no doubt gossiping. They tug at his hair, trying to grab his attention. He unwraps a candy and watches the little pixies fight over it. 

He does _not_ think of Viktor Nikiforov. 

He absolutely refuses to think of him. No, of course not. Yuuri doesn't think about his eyes or his lips or his strong arms or his twinkling laugh or his silver starlight hair or his dancer-like legs or his——- _damnit!_ A slap reverberates around the room followed by the sharp sting of pain on both sides of his face. It takes Yuuri seconds to realize that he slapped his own face in order to quell the mad red blush that covers his face turning him into a frumpy looking tomato that cannot control his own feelings.

The pixies scatter, chiming like angry bells as they're displaced by the sudden movement. An orange pixie gives him a dirty look before zipping off to find a spot to nap.

Lord Viktor Nikiforov, the most eligible bachelor in the city; well cultured, highly intelligent, ridiculously rich and most important of all, _single_. Every mother in the belle monde with an eligible daughter or son would've gladly paraded them around in front of him hoping for a match. A title and a rather large fortune paired up with a pretty face and a family legacy is quite the package. Anybody would consider themselves fortunate enough to have Lord Nikiforov as their own.

He doesn't see how he can compare? 

Yuuri can barely form coherent words on the presence of Lord Nikiforov much less look him in the eye, how could Lord Nikiforov possible be interested in him of all people?

If Yuuri was being honest, it felt like a dream. 

What perplexed him further was that Lord Nikiforov kept visiting him at Leroy's Magical Book Emporium. He didn't even know how that was even possible in the first place. This place was ensnared in warding and other sigils that only allowed witches and other supernaturals in. If the warding had failed and a human had gotten in then Yuuri knew that it was his job to notify the Leroy's but he couldn't bring himself to do it just yet. Besides the few odd encounters, like their earlier incident with the omnibus, he hardly saw Lord Nikiforov.

It was a selfish part of him that allowed it.

Perhaps it was because he was good at lying to himself, he wanted to keep seeing Lord Nikiforov even if it was a doomed infatuation that would lead nowhere. 

Leroy's Magical Book Emporium wasn't always magical. It was easy to glamour and hide the parts of the shop that he didn't want humans to see. The bright blue book had been placed by Mr. and Mrs. Leroy, who to his dismay (and secret elation) encouraged his acquaintance with Lord Nikiforov, helped to generate a large amount of glamour that hid the more eccentric and less standard parts of the shop from more mundane eyes.

He could smile, he could entertain him, and he could give him books to fuel his desire for reading but he couldn't imagine the possibility of never seeing him again.

Yuuri didn't know why these things seemed to happen to him. 

Every encounter with that man outside the shop is a disaster and driven completely by fate. Yuuri had lost count the number of times he had made a fool of himself in front of Lord Nikiforov like some wide eyed tongue tied country boy. Here, at least they would be equals in some sort of way.

He could give Viktor whatever he wanted.

But his hand in marriage?

Ha!

_Ridiculous._

That was an impossible daydream. The other shoe would drop eventually. 

Lord Nikiforov would tire of him and this shop eventually, Yuuri could only wait out the proverbial storm that had taken its form in silver locks and sky coloured eyes before he was left stranded and forgotten. The gifts that accompanied Lord Nikiforov would run dry and that would be the end of it, he was certain despite what Phichit said. 

(If it soothed Yuuri's already conflicted mind, at least Lord Nikiforov's dog was quite adorable.)

Yuuri had neither any prospects nor any fancy titles; as a young boy he was raised in his family inn, his upbringing was frugal and quiet. His childhood was mundane fro a witch. The only things that Yuuri seemed to excel at were magic, something that took him years upon years to master. 

Lord Nikiforov had no need for a man like him; he had nothing to offer other than his words and his misguided feelings; and even if he did marry Lord Nikiforov (and that was a larger considerable and slim _if_ ,) he didn't like to entertain the idea of hanging off his arm like some ornament for members of high society to gawk at or look down upon. Yuuri was far too independent to allow himself to settle into the role of a trophy husband even if it was _Lord Nikiforov's_ trophy husband.

There was also the other matter. One that was almost impossible to gloss over.

Yuuri was a being of magic that straddled the thinly veiled divide between humans and other supernatural creatures. His kind thrived in the shadows, far from the light and far away from peering eyes. The thing about Yuuri was that he was easily looked over and he liked that very much, it wasn't a desirable quality but it was a useful one especially when it came to his other profession.

Viktor came from a world bathed in glittering light and jewels, he could never understand Yuuri and his way of life. Yuuri grew up learning magic and spells and interacting with all sorts of supernatural creatures. He had never really fitted into the proper norms of human society, it was impossible with what he's seen over the years. They were too different, in station and in life. Whatever chance they had at meeting in the middle diminished with every encounter.

Lord Nikiforov had better things to do than dabble in an illicit affair with a _bookseller._

The logical thing to do would be to keep Lord Nikiforov out of his thoughts and away from his carefully guarded heart but said heart wanted him to otherwise.


	2. Where The Heart Takes You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good afternoon, Mr. Katsuki!” He chirps our like a canary, eager to finally speak to the young bookseller.
> 
> “Wha—-?” Yuuri jumps, whipping his head around in an owl-like fashion. “Lord Nikiforov?!”
> 
> The stool tilts at his sudden action, tipping backwards. Yuuri lets out a startled yelp as Viktor dives forward without a thought, catching Yuuri in his arms before he could hit the floor. For the second time today, Yuuri is in his arms. He cradles Yuuri close to his chest, arms around his waist. Yuuri's eyes are closed shut, and Viktor can only stare down at his face with clear admiration, his eyes marvelling at his features.

Viktor turns the last page of his current book as the clock strikes one. Through the floorboards, he can hear the loud and certain rings of the grandfather clock located in the foyer. The sound hums through his home, reminding him of the fact that he wasted his afternoon reading through a new set of books he only purchased a sennight ago.

Makkachin slumbers near his feet, softly snoring as the sunlight drives crisp golden lines across her fur and across the carpeted floor like spilt ink.

He’s burned through the pages as if they were candle wax, leaving nothing behind but satisfaction and the yearning for another book. As he reaches down, his fingers splayed against the carpet, clutching uselessly across the empty space where worn leather was supposed to be. Viktor groans softly as he slumps against his chair in an undignified manner. It was only one in the afternoon, his staff was out and about, enjoying the fair weather instead of sulking around like he was.

Viktor glances at the clock on the mantle, ignoring the incessant ticking. He’s aching for a new book which left him with one option.

He rises slowly, wincing as his joints whine in protest, a testament to just how long he had spent in that chair. Makkachin doesn’t stir when Viktor tiptoes around her, mindful to avoid stepping on her tail. He could never forgive himself for hurting his beloved dog, unintentionally or not. 

His coat lays draped over the back of his chair, the corners still wet due to the rain from the day earlier.

Viktor ignores it.

The restlessness in his bones lingers on, ever since his brief encounter with Mr. Katsuki, he has been more than eager to get out of the house and see him again lest he goes mad. 

One minute, he had been with Yakov and the next he had dashed across the road and pulled Yuuri out of the way. He had never felt such a fear before, blood curdling and painful as his own heart jumped in his chest but Viktor knew that at the very moment that he saw Yuuri frozen in fear in the way of a barreling omnibus, he would've done anything to keep him safe. Yakov had given him a lecture that nearly flayed the skin off his bones but Viktor could hardly pay attention to the boiling hot words that spilt from his mouth, he could only watch as Yuuri disappeared between the busy streets and people, leaving Viktor alone. The younger man had slipped through his fingers that morning.

Viktor peeks into the drawing room, catching sight of Lilia and Yuri nestled amongst the airy windows as if they were in a painting. Yuri, his youngest cousin, sits in front of the piano, blond hair glowing like a halo as he continued to mutter to himself as he keys through the notes with clumsy fingers, frustrating himself further when he’s forced to start all over again.

Lilia raises a well-groomed eyebrow as Viktor emerges from his den like a hibernating bear, glancing down at the drops of water that drip onto her rug with slight disdain. She doesn’t remark about the circles underneath his eyes that stain his complexion or how pale he looked, it was better to say things when the time was right. There was a slight appraisal that lasted only for a mere moment before her expression morphed into one of resignation.

Yuri glares up at him briefly, before returning to his piano lessons, grumbling underneath his breath.

“And where are you off to this afternoon, Vitya?” Lilia asks. She sets down her teacup, the fine china clinks softly. “You better not be going to that club with Mr. Giacometti. I have no desire of sending out a search party if you intend to get drunk yet again.”

He beams brightly at her, holding the answer to himself as he swoops down to press a chaste kiss to his aunt's cheek. She eyes the bulge tucked into his vest, no doubt another gift neatly wrapped in delicate paper. Lilia doesn’t have to say anything, she already knows enough. Viktor was as subtle as a trainwreck. It was a miracle that Mr. Katuski hadn’t been frightened away.

“Out,” Viktor answered simply, he throws in a wink for extra measure. “It’s far too nice now that the rain clouds have dispersed. Don’t you think?”

“I see,” Lilia hums, utterly unconvinced by her nephew's words. She dips her head down, feigning an air of nonchalance that can only be achieved by years of practice and grace. “Do remember to return by supper. Yakov will complain if you won’t. You know how he gets.”

Viktor nods, a far-away dreamy look in his eyes as he ruffled Yuri’s messy scarp of hair playfully. “I will.”

“Very well then if there is nothing else that needs to be said.....” She fixed him with a look that he knows all too well, the corner of her mouth turned slightly upwards and her green eyes twinkling with hidden mirth. “Do give Mr. Katsuki my regards.”

Viktor blinks, caught off guard by her words as his cheeks colour much to Yuri’s delight. He recovers quickly before the young man could cast out a snide remark, a smile fixed on his lips like an ornament. As he retreats, he feels Lilia’s gaze settled against his back like hot coals, burning through his clothes and skin, settling into his very soul. His cousin's peels of laughter follow him throughout the door. There is very little of what Viktor can hide from the watchful eyes of his aunt. Those emerald eyes have been known to see through faces, time, and egos with practised ease. 

Hiding something from Lilia was damn near impossible.

The cab driver halts in front, the elderman with round spectacles hardly glances at him when Viktor tucks the brim of his hand over his eyes.

“Where to?” He asks, gruffly. To him, there is no need to address a member of the aristocracy as long as they paid their fare. Viktor didn’t mind, the lack of address or title was refreshing.

“Leroy’s Book Emporium.”

The cab driver scrunched up his bushy eyebrows, lowering his eyes down to Viktor. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s at Silverstone Avenue and Jade Street,” Viktor recalled. He was certain that was where Mr. Katsuki worked, a small bookstore located on the corner. That’s odd, he thought it was a rather well known. “Three-story brick building with a phoenix painted on the side? I thought it was well known…...”

He was silent for a few seconds, contemplating those words as if they were a mathematical equation. Viktor could see the faint glimmer of recognition behind those pale green eyes before it was replaced with suspicion. The shift was jarring but he chose not to say anything.

“Doesn’t seem like the place someone like you would go.”

“And what do you mean by that, sir?” Viktor asks, indignantly. The smile remained on his face.

“I mean it’s not for your kind, Sir.” He tells him cryptically. His words are laced with an unknown warning that leaves Viktor feeling ill and unnerved. The way that his eyes shift in his sockets like marbles makes it look as if he was watching for something. “Best to stay away from that place, lad. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

The sharp sound of the whip startles Viktor as the cab takes off down the road and turns sharply before disappearing. He stands at the curb of the paved street, blinking owlishly.

“What a strange man,” He mutters to himself.

The cab drivers words haunt him as he hails another cab. This time he does not utter the name of the bookshop, only the street.

His ears remain pink when he settles himself into the rickety chaise of the cab.

It isn’t the first time that somebody had given him an odd look of approval or suspicion when he mentions the bookstore nestled near the corner of Silverstone Avenue and Jade Street. The reactions are varied whenever he mentions Leroy's; some are thoroughly confused by the name and others are reluctant to speak of it, and most of all there are those who have never heard of it. When Viktor had mentioned Leroy’s Book Emporium to Lilia, she had turned as pale as death before excusing herself. Even his cousin Yuri reacted oddly, unlike others who had hastily shifted the topic away his youngest relation had resorted to calling him a ‘ _fool who had eyes but no brain_ ’ before returning to his studies. Yakov, as usual, was indifferent but Viktor didn't miss the sway of fatherly concern as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

Whatever was so terrifying about Leroy’s book emporium (and so odd), Viktor was yet to understand. He attributed its reputation to Mr. Leroy and his boisterous behaviour but know he wasn’t so sure. Mrs. Leroy was a kind young lady, she was sweet and bubbly in her complexion but she was as mysterious and airy as the shop she owned. 

There was nothing queer about the quaint little shop, it was mundane to his eyes. The only thing (other than the endless shelves of books) that was of any worth to him was the objective affections of Mr. Katuski.

Sunlight trickles through the small window, putting Viktor in a slightly melochonic mood as the cab rushes into the heart of the city, the sounds of the metropolis bursting to life around him like a well-rehearsed musical.

The world around him no longer feels grey and muted, today he sees colour and light where shadows once rested. It’s strange how one person can change your perspective of the world with a mere glance and shy little smile tucked between two gentle eyes and a strong pair of hands.

His earlier encounter with Mr. Katsuki contributed towards his cheerful mood today, even if the encounter was brief and the situation was hardly private, he still felt like a sporadic hummingbird whenever he saw the object of his affections.

To some eyes, Yuuri Katsuki may have been unremarkable----too shy, too quiet, and not that outspoken. He was easy prey, something that other could tear apart with their silk-lined gloves and polished nails; like vultures, they’d try to take a piece out of him till he was nothing more than a hollow husk of bone. But to Viktor, he shined like Polaris itself, unbridled in his passion and utterly beautiful; something that belonged to the heavens than in the mortal realm of mankind. He expressed himself in other ways; through the slight curve of his lips or the glimmer in his eyes or the way he said ‘Honestly’ out of exasperation, Yuuri was this beautiful and complex being that hid beauty like the sea hid her treasures. And Viktor was completely ensnared by him, he had no intention of freeing himself from the siren-like sway of a two bronze coloured eyes and a soft, titled smile that made sunlight look dim.

Perhaps he sounded like some green boy at his first garden party, his heart balanced precariously on his sleeve and naive with his prospect in life, but Viktor knew that his affections for the kind-hearted Mr. Katsuki was certain as the tide and the moon. It was only the matter of presenting those affections that proved to be difficult; for a man who was notorious for being direct and storm like in his actions, confessing his true feelings felt like a Herculean task that only frustrated him further.

All he could ask himself was what was he doing wrong?

He’d followed every step, ever rule of etiquette, every scrap of advice (even from dear Christophe)—— yet the results have yielded nothing but his own heart in tatters. Flowers, sweets, even a visit for his beloved Makkachin and still he can only watch as his heart gives a painful whine of protest whenever Yuuri pulled away from him with a demure smile and bashful eyes.

The only thing that stopped him from pinning Yuuri to the nearest bookshelf and kissing him senseless was the sense of propriety that Lilia had painstakingly instilled in him.

It had been only been a year since Viktor had met Yuuri. Viktor briefly considered that Yuuri was aware of his affections but what conceded him was what if he was stringing him along or worse…….uninterested. The painful throb of unrequited love would be a thorn pressed against the tender underside of his heart. But Viktor was known to be unyielding and persistent, the small spark of hope the lingered in his heart fueled him. He could not imagine spending the rest of his days without the light of Mr. Katsuki in his life.

But until then, Viktor would remain near Yuuri till the younger told him to leave.

Two knocks from the cabby alerted him that he had reached his destination. Viktor paid the cabby his fare before turning around to adjust his coat and his hair that the spring breeze tugged at. He’s careful to tuck his hat over his eyes as he turns his coat collar up to hide his face as he searches for the bookstore.

He finds it with ease, the familiar symbol of the phoenix painted so distinctly on the side is welcoming.

Viktor enters through the large green door with faded gold letters.

The sound of the city is at its peak at this time of day. They fade away, muffled behind the glass and wood as Viktor steps into the parlour, greeted by the familiar scent of well-worn leather, dust, and paper that envelope him in a hug with their scents. It’s a homecoming of a different sort but welcoming all the same. But what is a more _welcoming_ sight is that of Yuuri Katsuki perched precariously on a stool as he stocks an empty shelf with the books cradled in his arms. Viktor allows his eyes to linger over his frame, admiring the view that men could only dream to wage wars over. He tears his eyes away, hiding his smile behind the turned up collars of his coat as he casts of his hat and scarf gingerly aside.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Katsuki!” He chirps our like a canary, eager to finally speak to the young bookseller.

“Wha—-?” Yuuri jumps, whipping his head around in an owl-like fashion. “Lord Nikiforov?!”

The stool tilts at his sudden action, tipping backwards. Yuuri lets out a startled yelp as Viktor dives forward without a thought, catching Yuuri in his arms before he could hit the floor. For the second time today, Yuuri is in his arms. He cradles Yuuri close to his chest, arms around his waist. Yuuri's eyes are closed shut, and Viktor can only stare down at his face with clear admiration, his eyes marvelling at his features. 

Yuuri's eyes open slowly, widening as he gazes up at Viktor, wide and shining. 

Pink tints his cheeks adorably stretching from the tips of his ears to his neck. His lashes are fine and feather-like, fluttering slightly. It was like Eros had sent an arrow straight into Viktor's heart. He can’t help it when his eyes flicked down to his lips, once again tempted to kiss him. Viktor is acutely aware of how close they are to each other, the _closest_ they have ever been in each other’s company. His heart skips like a flat rock across a pond before speeding up, his blood chugging through his veins and past his his ears like the machine of a locomotive.

He’s caught and tangled in a web now, one of his own doing.

“Lord Nikiforov?” Yuuri’s grip on his shoulders tightens, twisting the fabric of his shirt underneath his fingers. The only thought that passes through his mind is how beautiful this man is and how he would very much like to keep him close like this, (eternity would be preferable.) “You’re early today.”

“Yes, Mr. Katsuki?” Viktor responds airly, clearly dazed and lost in his eyes like a lovesick heroine. He would’ve gladly swooned if Yuuri was not in his arms. 

“You may put me down now, Mr. Nikiforov,” He says bashfully, lowering his lashes and breaking their gaze. “I must be quite heavy.”

“On the contrary. You’re very light,” Viktor smiles, regretfully placing his feet back on the carpeted floor. His hand lingers against the small of his back for far too long before he forces himself to pull away, giving the young bookseller some room. “You should be more careful, Mr. Katuski. Many of us prefer you in the land of the living.”

“I assure you I’m not this clumsy,” Yuuri murmurs to him as he picks up the fallen stacks of books. Viktor swoops down to help him, brushing aside his protests which stop when his hands curl across his. Yuuri stands up quickly as if Viktor’s touch burned him, nearly stumbling over his feet as he puts an appropriate amount of distance between them. “I-Is there something you would like help with, Lord Nikiforov?” He asks him.

Viktor is still kneeling as if he were to be knighted, held up in a moment that hand ended for Yuuri but not for him. He pushes off the ground, taking some of the books from the tower in Yuuri’s arms. 

“I was hoping you have more books for me to read,” he said, clutching them close to his chest.

( _I missed you_ , is what he really wanted to say.)

“You’re done already, my lord?’ Yuuri laughs silently to himself, finding amusement in something Viktor wasn't aware of. He offers a small smile and shakes his head gently, whatever thought glimpses his mind he was not privy to share of yet. “But you only bought them last week.”

“And I’ve read them in a week!” Viktor beams, proud of his simple yet mundane task. “I’m quite a fast reader, Mr. Katsuki.”

“I can see that." Yuuri smiles and he swears he hears a choir sing. "Did you like them?”

“Immensely.”

Viktor places the books down on one of the desks, watching as Yuuri picks up another stack of books and moves them to a new shelf. He follows his movements with eager eyes, sifting through his own pile of books for something interesting. 

"I bought you sweets," Viktor said, pulling out the small wrapped package. " _Sweets for the sweet._ You've told me that you enjoy lemon, correct?"

Yuuri protests, " _V-Viktor!_ " Viktor feels his breath stutter when Yuuri speaks his name, he presses the package into his hands and closes his fingers around it. "You really shouldn't buy me gifts like this, it's---"

"Improper?" Viktor tilts his head. "Nonsense, my dear Yuuri." 

They strike up a civil conversation to pass the time, the tone is light and Viktor only asks questions that a carefully tailored so that he is neither prying or invasive. Yuuri was sweet-tempered, answering his questions and Viktor clings onto every word that comes out of his mouth. He’s more than smitten at this point, right now he was in the midst of a wild and untamable infatuation that was willing to burn everything in the nearby vicinity to ash.

He places his hand over his chest remembering the present he had brought Yuuri. That could wait till later.

“I hope you’re alright after this morning’s incident---”

“Perfectly!” Mr. Katuski quickly says. He cheeks were tinted in a lovely shade of rose whenever Viktor looked at him. “I’m fine, Lord Nikiforov.”

“You took quite a tumble,” Viktor recants, he notices that his knees have faint worn patches of dirt on them still. No doubt that his knees have bruised from the impact yet Mr. Katsuki hardly shows an ounce of discomfort or pain. “You ran away before I could say anything else.”

"Forgive me if I’ve offended you, Mr. Nikiforov.” Yuuri winces at the memory. “I’m not very comfortable around large groups of people.”

“Why, Mr. Katsuki. You work in a bookshop.”

He smiles dryly, “What an amazing observation, Lord Nikiforov.”

Viktor winces slightly at his own tactlessness. “I mean no ill will nor did I intend to tease you---”

“I know,” Yuuri said softly. He tosses a mischievous wink towards him that turns Viktor’s heart into a hummingbird eager to escape. “I understand what you mean but I only sell books, My lord. I don’t advertise them, that would be Mrs. Leroy’s job.”

“Speaking of the Leroy’s, where are the others?” He asks, noticing the silence that settles between them. The book in his hand is well worn and in need of repair, the last few pages are practically falling out. “Are Mr. Chulanont and Mr. Altin busy this afternoon as well? It’s rather quiet.”

“They’ve gone out for lunch, and Leo has mostly likely shirked his duty to go and see Guang Hong at the Bakery,” Yuuri tells him. His back is turned to him, he stands on his toes as he takes out several books from the top shelf for an order which give Viktor a good view. “Mrs. Leroy is is with her mother in Brisbane. As for me, I don’t feel to eat anything at the moment.”

“We’re…...alone?” Viktor can't recall when they’ve ever been alone with each other without someone breathing down their necks.

He looks around, noticing the distinct absence of the others. 

Yuuri nods, slowly turning his head to expose the slender line of his neck. He casts him a look that is neither coquettish or alluring but apprehensive and overwrought. The slight crease between his eyebrows furrows further. (Viktor wants to kiss it away.) 

“We are, aren’t we?”

Viktor gets up, taking long strides as he reaches Yuuri. He hasn’t moved an inch, his fingers drum against the spine of a book witches leather is dyed the same shade of blue as his eyes. Yuuri has his eyes on him, glimmering like topaz decorated by flecks of gold that Viktor finds entrancing. They are far too close for propriety's sake but Viktor hardly cares for the worries of high society as of the moment. His eyes dance and Viktor can feel the heat emitting from his body, the sweet scent of cardamom and spice make him wonder what Yuuri’s skin would taste underneath his mouth. He pins his arms to his side, squashing the intense wave of want. So much to say but he has no clue where to begin. The words are like syrup down his throat, sweet and overwhelming and thick, he can barely get them out.

“Mr. Leroy put out an order for more books the other day,” Yuuri interrupts him. He swivels his head, hiding his eyes away from his. His fingers remain pressed to the spine of the blue book, tracing the golden lettering. Viktor follows the movement with interest, waiting for Yuuri to face him again but he doesn't. “I’ve already picked some out for you if you want,” he offers, kindly. “Do you want them?”

All Viktor can do is smile sadly, disappointment colouring inside his chest. The feeling isn’t new but familiar, he steps back and tears his gaze away from Yuuri's hands. 

He opens his mouth, daring to use his name, “Yuuri, I---” 

Yuuri turns around, his hands are at his sides trembling slightly. Viktor isn't sure why that affect him but he feels the words die in his throat, not yet ready to utter them but he knows that the longer they sit in his mind, the more he'll crave to scream them out to the world. Instead, he shakes his head and grabs a random book from the shelf. 

“Yes, I’d like that.”


	3. To Pine Is To Climb The Highest Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a painful lesson in love that every gentleman will learn: to pine for someone is to climb the highest mountain only to tumble back to the bottom.
> 
> At least, _that's_ what Yakov told him one winter night long ago where he had one too many glasses of scotch.

There’s a painful lesson in love that every gentleman will learn: to pine for someone is to climb the highest mountain only to tumble back to the bottom.

At least, that's what Yakov told him one winter night long ago where he had one too many glasses of scotch.

Viktor hates the idea of pining like a lovesick fool but here he was in his study, agonizing over a guest list for the first ball of the upcoming season. A stack of books tied with a bright red ribbon warrants his attention but planning seating arrangements, as well as organizing funds, are hardly what he finds appealing. Keeping certain members of his family apart as well as ensuring that a number of his peers don’t decide to start a riot only turns his brain into mush.

He rubs his temples, in desperate need of some tea right now.

But the biggest question of the night is this: Does he invite Mr. Katsuki or not?

The tip of his quill hovers above the list of guests, some of the names he would gladly do without but knowing Aunt Lilia and Uncle Yakov’s need for keeping up appearances he relents. It’s the first ball of the season, he can ensure that the next ball will be more private and less ambitious.

He mulled over his decision, suprising himself on just how long it was taking him to decide. 

There were certainly pros and cons to inviting Mr. Katuski to his ball.

The pros, in his mind, easily outweigh the cons. For one, Viktor had always wanted the chance to dance with him ever since he had heard that Yuuri had learned to dance when he was younger, it would be a literal dream come true if he could ask him for his hand and then proceed to sweep him off his feet for the rest of the evening. He could imagine it, the lights hanging above and the rich music and Mr. Katsuki’s cognac-coloured eyes staring into his, it was a pretty scene and one he wanted with every fiber of his being. But, like all fantasies, they were void of a healthy dose of reality.

Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t a member of high society and Viktor was unaware if he had any connections. Of course, that never really mattered to him. Viktor could care less about Yuuri’s financial background or where his family came from but others would gladly incline their 'opinions'. These folk were like snakes bathed in a nest silk and jewels; easily jilted, petty, and not too kind to others who were different than them. It would take them only a moment to dig their claws into him.

They wouldn't take long bully Yuuri into place, and _that_ was what Viktor feared.

Yuuri was not a dirty secret and nor would Viktor ever allow him to be, almost everyone knew of Viktors object of affection. He had promised himself to prove to Yuuri that he was honest and genuine, his gifts had no strings attached and his words were true. Yuuri wasn't just some boring bookseller, he had brought Viktor joy and love, something he so desperately lacked in his life. There was no measure, no amount of gold, or pretty words that could express just how much Yuuri meant to him. 

To most, it would seem like an ill-fitted infatuation that would fizzle out like a fuse as soon as he found something more interesting to chase. The sly comments at the gentlemen's club only turned his knuckles white and his smile even more strained, they didn't understand and Viktor knew that they never would.

There was also the issue of Yuuri’s discomfort with large crowds that worried him. He wanted Yuuri to be nothing but comfortable.

Viktor respected Yuuri’s wishes even if he found his disinterest in socializing strange considering his upbringing, he had been around people ever since he was young, it was easy to place himself in the eyes of the public and charmed the pants off of them. It was easy to talk and throw out his opinions; social life wasn’t a tremendous burden but it could get stressful at times especially when it came to private matters.

So it seemed Viktor was at an impasse.

On one hand, Viktor invites Yuuri and spends a charming evening with him or he doesn’t invite him at all and spends the rest of his days wondering what could have been. Neither of those options seemed particularly good or healthy for Viktor’s state of mind, but one of them was far more pleasing than the other.

Three knocks on the door jilt Viktor away from his worries. 

“Come in!” He calls out, running his finger through his hair.

Lilia opened the door, causing Makkachin to perk her head up. All traces of rouge that Lilia is fond of are gone, her lips are pressed into a thin line and her cheekbones are highlighted further by the gaslamps. One would mistake for some sort of phantom. Her hair now flowing loosely down her shoulder and dressed in a lemon coloured dressing gown, she peers at him with her eyebrow arched close to her hairline.

If Viktor was a younger man, he'd be scared stiff of that expression.

(God only knows how Yakov deals with his when she sends him such a look.)

“Worrying about matters that don’t concern you, Vitya?” She asks him. He places his hands over the guest list, shooting her a well-rehearsed smile. The gesture is less than subtle, her emerald lines gaze falls atop his hand. She looks neither surprised nor alarmed “Have you finalized the guest list as of yet or would you prefer to spend the rest of the night driving yourself towards madness?”

Viktor lets out a sigh of relief. “You are truly gifted with words, my dearest aunt.”

“I exercise my gift to the highest degree.” The wry smile on her lips is almost amused. “Just ask my darling husband.”

Viktor barks out a laugh. He removes his hand, exposing the list of names to Lilia as she cuts through the room. 

“I’ve practically invited half of the city at this point,” He tells her. “Yakov was very persistent that I invite some of his compatriots from parliament. And I ensured to invite Duke Buller and his family as well as Countess of Crewall, her son debuted recently so---- ”

“I see,” Lilia hums, uninterested by the names. Instead, her eyes dart across the paper, scrutinizing it heavily. She frows. “And yet you’ve forgotten the most important name of all.”

He narrows his eyes, carefully skimming through the list of names. “Odd, I’m certain I had everyone.”

“Mr. Katsuki?” She rolls her eyes. "Really, Vitya. When will you bring this boy to meet us?"

Viktor sits up, his back straight as a board. “Ah yes.” The rouge in his cheeks betrays him, his cheeks heat up further when Lilia chuckles at his expense. “I….I was meaning to speak to you about that……”

She ignores his ramblings, her eyes easily feigning nonchalance as she places the list down. 

“And here I was expecting you to beg me to allow Mr. Katsuki to attend the ball.” Lilia rolls her eyes at his expression, it comes off fond rather than dismissive or rude. She moves away from the desk, the bloody red dressing gown flutter behind her as she opens the door. “I expect to meet this young man soon, Vitya. Yakov and I have much to discuss with him."

"He's a tad bit shy, Lilia."

" _And?_ "

Viktor pouts. "Please don't scare him away?" 

"I'll consider it," Lilia says to him. Viktor knows that she finds the man that ensnared his heart interesting. "I look forward to meeting _the_ Mr. Katsuki that you've been talking about all year. He must be quite something if he has you by the heart, it almost reminds me of when Yakov was courting me."

“I assure you that Mr. Katuski will not disappoint you,” Viktor said, elation bubbling up in his chest. Now his hand itches to write Yuuri’s name down. "You'll love him, Lilia." 

“Good, that's good.” Lilia hums. She pauses for a moment before exiting. “Ah, yes. One more thing. Yura asked me to ask you to hold an invitation for him.”

Viktor tilts his head. It wasn't the oddest request he had received from Yuri but it piqued his attention nonetheless. 

Yuri was the youngest in the family, not quite a man but not quite a child either. Viktor could remember what difficult years those had been, especially in this family. The young man hardly had any friends, not even from school and despite the fact that he had debuted two seasons prior, he wasn't very interested in socializing unlike the rest of his peers. 

He assumed that it might have something to do with his Grandfather, the Plisetsky patriarch spent most of the time in the countryside in his family estate. 

If must've been a jarring shift. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to live all of your life in the countryside and then to suddenly find yourself in the midst of a city, foreign and unforgiving, living with a family that you had only met a handful of times. 

If little Yuri had indeed found some companionship, then Viktor wouldn't stand in the way of his cousin's friendship. 

“I’ll need a name.”

Lilia scrunches her eyebrows together for a second and then speaks. “Altin, I believe it was. Otabek Altin.”

"Oh?" The name rang familiar. Viktor recalled the young man with a stoic face and a set of dark, gleaming eyes. "I know him," Viktor said.

"Can we trust him?"

"He's a good lad. A little quiet but trustworthy." He smiled. "Mr. Altin is a good influence on Yura. I'm sure you can judge for yourself when you meet him."

"We shall see." She said, looking unconvinced. 

Viktor didn't comment further, he was aware of how protective Lilia was of her family. It was given considering this families problem with marriage and then some. Even she had been apprehensive of Yuuri when she heard her nephew was flirting with some bookseller but Lilia is an excellent judge of character, if not a little cautious. 

"Goodnight, Aunt." 

"Goodnight, Nephew." She tells him, softly. "Try not to stay up too late tonight." 

The door shuts behind her with an audible click, the only indication that his aunt was ever here was the rose scented perfume and Viktor’s glee as he writes down two more names to the guest list. A plan forms in his mind, it’s bold and unprecedented but Viktor is a man of action. The ball would be held in two weeks time. Two more weeks till he would see his Yuuri and hold him in his arms again underneath the soft lights of the chandeliers and the familiar notes of a well-danced waltz. Viktor would charm him off his feet and dance with him till his feet were sore and if everything went well, he would---

Makkachin nudges his leg softly, whining. He chuckling and pulls himself away from the land of dreams and the silly fantasies of his own mind before he becomes _too_ distracted. 

"Perhaps I'm getting too ahead of myself, Makka. How am I going to survive two more weeks?" She barks in return, seemingly bored with her mater's lovelorn expression. He chuckles. "You're right, I just need to stay strong."

There was no time to waste if he wanted this to work. 

Viktor picks up his pen and elegantly scrawls Yuuri's name to the list.

He could hardly contain his excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor pining over Yuuri will always be my kryptonite.


	4. Tears and Blood and Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri looks up just in time to catch the sun rising over the flat greyed horizon, its rays peeking over and illuminating the endless fields of wheat in gold and bronze as the morning fog rolled over, white and pure unlike that of the city. The world glowed like it was born anew in dragons flame.
> 
> It was a beautiful sight but Yuuri wasn't here to admire the view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 84 years since I last updated. Here we learn more about the Lonely Hearts killer, witches, and meet a certain character that I hope you love.

It's early, far too early when Yuuri arrives at the small town of Greenbrooke with only his satchel and the clothes on his back. 

Magic crackles around him as if he were in the midst of a sudden tempest, humming through the air as he steps through the portal. His boot-clad feet touch ground much to his relief, he'd certainly like to avoid his previous occurrence where he landed in a pond instead. Yuuri lands underneath a large oak tree, accidentally disturbing a few pixies that resided amongst his branches. They cursed at him, throwing twigs and leaves but he paid them no heed. 

He watches as the blue slice of light disappears from view, leaving only a scorch mark on the ground indicating his arrival and the stench of burnt earth. 

Yuuri looks up just in time to catch the sun rising over the flat greyed horizon, its rays peeking over and illuminating the endless fields of wheat in gold and bronze as the morning fog rolled over, white and pure unlike that of the city. The world glowed like it was born anew in dragons flame.

It was a beautiful sight but Yuuri wasn't here to admire the view.

His stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that he had scarcely eaten. Yuuri had left in a hurry, barely able to utter a word to Phichit as he conjured a portal. The chalk piece in his pocket was only a sliver of his index finger, worn down from the large amounts of magic it had taken to get him here. Yuuri frowned at the stub of chalk in his pocket. Normally, he wasn't so reckless with magic but when the Council gave you an assignment then suddenly conserving magic seemed like a small issue. 

The rickety moss covered cottage before him was the centre of his attention and the reason he would bother travelling by portal this far from the outskirts of the city where golden fields met thick forests and rivers turned into little streams and creeks. It was something out of a dark fairy tale he had once read, there was just a certain eerie feeling towards it that made you question if you were willing to disturb its occupants or not. He shuddered, the cool morning breeze settling against his skin. Yuuri pulled his coat closer to his body hoping to keep it at bay. 

He could smell the metallic scent of rust and salt before he even entered the cottage, it was thick and smog like, threatening to coat his nose and throat with the putrid smell.

_Blood._

Oh, how he hated the smell of blood.

The door swung open easily and his eyes were drawn immediately to the body strewed across the floor of the small workshop; hapless green eyes clouded over with the misty pale ink of death and a slashed out throat that looked like a bloody red smile. It was chilling, his face paling as he observed the splatter of blood that had splashed across the worktable at the far right wall.

Yuuri could feel his stomach roll, bile rising fast into his throat before he swallowed thickly and forced himself to breathe through the foul odour. The sight was terrifying, gruesome. He forced himself to peel his eyes away from the gory sight, focusing intently on the floorboard instead. His hands trembled as he scrounges around in his pockets for his handkerchief before pressing the square shaped cloth over his mouth and nose in order to block out the smell of death.

"Who is he?" He asked. 

"Tobias Goldvein," a cool and much too relaxed voice said from behind him, followed by the scent of sweet perfume that made his nose burn and his eyes water. It didn't mix well with the smell of blood. He pressed the handkerchief more firmly against his nose. "This one is stranger than the others."

"How so?" He asked, there was no need to turn around. He was aware of her presence before he had stepped foot into the cottage. "I don't see anything else but a dead body."

"Don't see," Minako whispered as she crept from the shadows of the room. Her hands land atop his shoulder, squeezing gently. Yuuri relaxed his shoulders at her touch. "Feel, my boy."

Her scarlet dyed skirts ghosted against his calves as she stood behind him, Minako's rose scented perfume served only to amplify the smell of blood and wood.

Yuuri felt around the many pockets of his large coat for the chalk piece. His fingers curled around a short cylindrical object and pulled it out, feeling the thrum of energy purring through the chalk as he pressed the blunt tip against the blood-soaked hardwood floors.

Sigils were stranger than other forms of witchcraft, it was using a medium to channel magic rather than directly using magic. It was less concrete. If Yuuri wanted to perform a spell he would' have to concentrate solely on that task and nothing else. Some could say that sigil magic was risky and even dangerous given how it relied so heavily on the users meaning and intent. Such things could be easily misread if rushed or hastily draw, It wasn't uncommon for young witches to misconstrue sigils so terribly that they harmed themselves and others in the process.

It was no wonder that Sigil magic was placed on a list of magic labelled too dangerous and risky; along with the five forms of magic that The Council had specifically outlawed or outright banned for all intents or purposes. Yuuri was the only Sigil Witch in the region and that was because he had earned the right to practice that form of magic; through literal blood, sweat, and tears. 

(Now, if only his talents were used for something useful rather than being a fancy errand boy for the Council.) 

"Focus, Yuuri," Minako said, her gloved hands pressed into his shoulder gently, grounding. "I can sense your thoughts drifting. You need to focus, my dear."

He exhales softly, "Apologies, Madame."

The Sigil for _search_ was pressed into the floor by Yuuri's hand, starting with a small circle and making his way through the rest of the sigil. To most eyes, it resembled a strange squiggly line, random with its design and odd. But to Yuuri, it was so much more. Each line was part of a language that only he could understand, each circle was the beginning or end of a sentence. The blindingly white chalk stood in stark contrast to the floor. Yuuri closed his eyes, allowing magic to flow through him as he concentrated and channelled his energy.

Magic was like a current, you could feel it whenever you were close to someone who had a strong magical presence. Sometimes, depending on how it was used, it left behind something akin to a residue. Oddly enough, it wasn't guaranteed to last long. Magic was already such a fickle thing, even more so than fate and it rarely allowed itself to be controlled.

He was acutely aware of Minako right behind him, her magic was like a violent spark that buzzed angrily like a bee trapped in a jar. His own magic felt like something soft and coy, dancing around the sigil like a flame in the breeze. The farther he pushed his range of magic, the more he noticed that something was amiss, he felt bile threaten to rise up from his stomach again.

He felt as if someone had hit him over the head with a shovel.

Nothing.

Yuuri hated the void of nothingness he felt near Mr. Goldvein's body, it was like a sizable portion of time and space had been punched through leaving nothing behind but an inescapable hole of matter and energy. A part of reality had been torn away. It was chilling, perhaps even barbaric. He shivered as if the cold had gripped his very bones, snapping his eyes open as he glanced into the cold, gaping face of Tobias Goldvein. His green eyes were pale and milky, like pond scum, bearing up into Yuuri with an emptiness that left him feeling bare right down to his soul. There an accusatory look in his eyes, hidden underneath the layers of shock and fear. Yuuri could feel it, the fear and dread that must've followed him during his final moment, it made him want to keel over. 

Tobias Goldvein had no magical signature, not even an ounce emitting off of his corpse.

And that _terrified_ Yuuri.

"T-Tobias Goldvein was a metalsmith, yes?" Yuuri asked shakily as he drew his hands away from the sigil. He pressed his thumb against the open circle, the starting point of the sigil and brushes across it, smearing the chalk so it was no longer usable, effectively closing it. The energy was now void, allowing Yuuri to move. "This meant he spent most of his hours repairing magical objects?"

Minako nodded. "Yes."

"So it's safe to assume that he worked with magic at almost every waking hour, which means there should be a trace of his magic left and yet...." He swallowed his discomfort, standing upright. "There's nothing. I sense nothing."

Minako huffed, annoyed. "Just as I suspected. The previous three were the same," Minako hummed. Her expression mirrored his. 

"This is the fifth victim in the past four months," Yuuri said as he across the room, ardent to avoid stepping into the puddles of blood. He stops in front of the Tobias Goldvein's work table, picking up one of the tools and inspecting it. Even though the thin cotton of his gloves, Yuuri can feel how stone cold the metal was, well worn, most likely used to help to produce enough heat to hammer out imperfections. It hadn't been used in days. 

"There are no consistent wounds, no precious items were stolen, and no witnesses. The only thing that remains even the slightest bit consistent is that all of the bodies have been drained of magic. No wonder the authorities haven't been able to find any solid leads, mortal or otherwise. There are simply no concrete leads," He sighs, blowing a messy strand of hair away from his face. The lack of magic around him is alarming as if someone had splashed a pail of cold water over him. "I fear we may dealing with a monster, Madame."

"No, my dear Yuuri," She tells him, her expression tight with worry. "We are facing something worse."

"Now it's Mr. Goldvein and the Gods only know who's next," Yuuri sighed. "Who could have the heart to do such a thing?"

 

 

Yuuri seals the cottage, sacrificing the remnants of his chalk piece. 

They retire to Greenbrooke Manor for the night, eager to leave this place. Mr. Goldvein's body remains where it was found and the room sealed with a sigil until The Council sent another one of its members to investigate further. 

All they could do was prepare a report and send it to the Council. 

(Yuuri knew they would send more of their members in the morning and Yuuri would be pushed aside. It was practically routine at this point, The Council always treated him like some errand boy instead of a witch highly trained in sigil magic.)

Minako had quickly called in for the night, stressed from the day's event and desperate to chase sleep. Yuuri, it seemed, was unable to fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He lifted himself from the bed and wandered through the halls of the manor, his gaslamp low on oil but he was confident enough that he could find his way through the dark. 

Yuuri was left to his own devices, his feet wandered the lonely halls of the now empty manor. He passed through the main foyer where his uncle's portrait hung. He could feel his eyes following all the way to the library. 

Lady Minako's late husband had been a kind and portly man, gifted in astrology and divination. Yuuri had been only a small boy when he had been introduced to his Godparents for the first time. Sir Okukawa had a round face with round moonlike glasses that reflected the heavens he so ardently stared at, Yuuri distinctly recalled the smell of oil and hemp that clung to his clothes as well as the way he giggles like a schoolboy when Minako kissed his cheek. He was a kind man, a father figure to Yuuri when he had been sent to Greenbrooke to learn the art of magic and society.

Ah, those had been simpler times. Yuuri recalled those times with fond remembrance, the days of his youth were close to his heart. Sir Okukawa may be dead but Yuuri would always revere him, keeping his memory alive as he roamed through this halls. 

The only remnant of him was the grand telescope that was the centrepiece of the library and his portrait that hung in the foyer, everything else that remained of Sir Okukawa had been placed in storage. His death had been sudden and quick, like a fallen tree during a thunderstorm. Yuuri felt his death and mourned as was expected of him but his Godmother had never really recovered from the death of her husband nor had she parted with his ghost. Perhaps that was why she was fond of Yuuri and her sister since the couple had no children to call their own.

The Library at Greenbrooke Manor is just as Yuuri remembered when he was a boy; high arched ceiling with pagan gods and druids dancing over the plaster, high shelves of endless books that made Leroy's Magical Book Emporium seem minuscule and a large roaring fireplace that warmed his feet. It was homely to him, he found comfort in the small corners and between the pages.

Yuuri had spent countless nights here nestled near the fireplace with a book in his hand, practising as many spells as he could before Minako heard him back to bed. Life had been much easier back then, no expectations and no Council, his problems were less vexing. 

He laid across the rug, a book laid out before him as he lazily turned the pages paying no heed to the chimes of midnight that echoed through the manor like a banshee's wail. _The Effects of Magical Exhaustion_ had kept his attention, he barely registered the sound of the doors opening and closing, nor did he acknowledge the familiar footfalls that drew closer and closer.

"Even now after all these years, I still see that shy young man trapped between the pages of a good book."

At night, the smell of roses was strong. It no longer made his nose burn, it had been subdued by the smell of burning wood. 

"It's a well-written book," He turns the page, his finger playing with the corner. "And helpful too."

"Magical Exhaustion?" Her tone of voice betrays none of her scepticism. "It's a possibility. Although not likely."

Yuuri hears the result of his chemise as she glides across the library floor, settling into the armchair. He sits up, turning to stare at his godmother. The glow of the fireplace casts shadows across her features, highlighting the concerned look that lingered in her whisky coloured eyes. At fifty, Lady Minako Okukawa was beautiful and ethereal as the fae queen herself; sharp angular features, bloody red lips that put roses to shame, skin pale as fresh winter snow, and long straight brown coloured tresses that framed her face. Often, when he was younger, he wished that he could've possessed half of the beauty that she was graced with. Yuuri had always considered himself average, though his godmother and mother had been graced with beauty from birth, he had no such luck in that department.

He tears his eyes away from her visage, absently rereading a new passage. None of the words sticks to his mind. 

"Magical Exhaustion can be fatal."

Yuuri bites his lip. The image of Mr. Goldvein's cutthroat smiles up at him like a wicked fiend. He can clearly see the bright red splatter of blood that decorated the walls in a grotesque manner. It isn't his first murder scene and it certainly won't be his last but he will never get used to the sight of fresh blood. 

"It was all gone," Yuuri said. "All of it, not even the slightest trace of it remained. The past four victims were just the same."

"Out of the last four bodies, only two were found in the countryside. One was found in the city and the last one was found in a river. Gastly isn't it?" Yuuri nods absently. He had been there when the human authorities had fished the last body out of the river, it was was unrecognizable and bloated. The Council had seized it within the hour, transporting it to their main Headquarters. (Yuuri had been called soon after so that he could place a sigil to preserve the body from decomposing further and then, as usual, dismissed.) "Sadly we were not tasked to find the cause of death or the killer, just to alert the Council of the details" She sighed, mournfully. Yuuri begrudgingly shared her sentiments. "The Council is is just as baffled as we are. There hasn't been a large amount of killing like this since the dark ages. This pertains to both humans and witches, no matter what the Council tells us."

"It worries me too," He said, closing the book with more force than necessary. "It could be any one of us next. You, me, Mari." The thought is too terrifying to fathom. "We're not immortal as humans believe us to be."

"Nor are we as powerful, my boy. It only saddens me that another body will turn up eventually." Minako whispered, her voice trembled slightly. Her eyes were drawn to the fire making them glow like fairy lights. She looked so otherworldly, the orange glow added to her beauty instead of dampening it. "It's late."

"It's never stopped us before."

"True," She hums, closing her eyes. her fingers rub at her temples slowly. "Let us stop talking of this matter. I need a distraction from such things."

Yuuri chuckles to himself. "What would you like to discuss, My Lady?"

"I can think of a few topics to discuss," She said with a smile."Tell me of your life in the city, Yuuri."

He blinks, unsure how to answer that question. He had scarcely told anyone of his job at Leroy's Magical Book Emporium, not even his family knew. Yuuri wasn't sure how his family would react that knowing that his position on the Council was relegated to nothing more than an errand boy and that he had to work in store to make ends meet. 

"It's as mundane and busy as you expect it to be. My day to day routine is almost clockwork at this point."

"Oh, my sweet darling Yuuri." Minako rolls her eyes, throwing her head back. Her laughter is like little bells, soft and sweet. He finds himself giggling in return, her amusement catching like wildfire. "That's not what I mean, my dear. I mean.... are you satisfied? Is the Council treating you right? How is Phichit? Tell me, it's boring out here."

Yuuri swallows down his guilt and shame but it bubbles back up like dragons blood. He nearly gags on it. 

"I am happy with what I am given and Phichit is well since I've seen him last," He said, swiftly. As for the Council.....well, they treated him as he expected they would. Being a Sigil witch was something akin to being sacred, they opted to protect him and use him like one would use fine china; only bringing it out for special occasions and only when he was most useful to them. "The Council treats me as well as they can. They are.....accommodating."

"They hardly pay you," Minako asks, flatly. It is not a question. 

Yuuri winces at her tone. "My wages are not as much as it could be, madame," He agrees.

A storm gathers on her brow, darkening her features as her cheeks flood with red mimicking the boiling blood that ran through her veins. "Is that why my godson is working in a book emporium?" she spat out. "The Council had always been shrewd, too cautious and too paranoid but this is ridiculous. Wasting their best witch like this at such a crucial time. Ridiculous. I thought Celestino knew better than that."

"That was my choice, Madame." He huffs, annoyed more at himself than his Godmother. "And I'm decent enough but that's not enough for them to pay me gold. I enjoy my work at the Emporium, thank you very much. The hours are flexible and I have ample time to practice."

"Yuuri."

"It's the sad truth but I'm paid better wages selling books than working for the Council." Yuuri sees the conflict in her eyes, the red in her cheeks remains but her hands are now trembling. "The Council doesn't see me as a valuable asset in the field........and I can't help but agree with them."

"You have so much talent, Yuuri," Minako said to him softly. "I just wish the Council could see how powerful you are. You're what they need right now."

_I wish I could too._

"Even so.......It was only a minor accident. Hardly worth the fuss or " She tutted, glaring into the fire. "Nobody was injured in the whole ordeal and I don't see it a reason to treat you like some criminal. Everyone makes mistakes, even Celestino. Noone hackles him about the Walachia incident." 

"But it was enough for them." 

Minako wisely refrains from saying anything else after that. He feels her anger, it simmers below her skin as she stares deep into the fire as if the answer laid there.

They lull into a comfortable silence when she pulls away. Yuuri eventually gets up to add more wood to the fire as the night stretches on. He feels a chill travel down his spine as he picks up one of the logs, the skin underneath his shirt erupts into goosebumps which leave him feeling uneasy yet again. It feels as if someone was watching him. He dismissed it, attributing the feeling to the old and dusty shelves of the library. 

"Are you privy to gossip, Yuuri?" Minako asks him, breaking the silence. Her tone is lighter now. "I am bored out here, my boy. It's so silent."

"I try to refrain from it," He said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "As for you, Madame, it would be expected."

"Fine then," Minako pouts playfully. "Tell me about your love life. How many hearts have you broken in the city? Give your darling aunt some news of your exploits. Save me from my boredom."

He lifts a log, preparing to add it to the pile of logs. "Barren."

"Oh, that's a pity," She said as she leaned back into the chair, her lips twisted into a pout. "I was hoping you would tell me more of Lord Nikiforov."

He yelps at the mention of his name. 

Yuuri nearly burns his hand when she mentions his name. He pulls his hand away quickly, cradling it to his chest. "W-What about His Grace?"

"His Grace?" Minako repeats, her tone disbelieving. She gave him an incredulous look. "Not Viktor or any other pet name? My, my. I must admit, I was hoping for more."

"Why does it not surprise me that my Godmother is prying into my private affairs?" Yuuri sighs. "If Phichit has indeed told you everything then I have no other details to spare, Madame. You know he has a tendency to over-inflate his stories."

She smiles, it's a mischievous thing that reminds him all too well of Mari. "Tis a pity that we've been found out."

"Get on with it," Yuuri urges her, daring to take a firmer tone that sounds petulant to his own ears. He would rather face embarrassment sooner than later unless he wills himself into an early winter grave. "What has my sweet, darling companion told you as of now? I'm curious to know so I can give him a proper tongue lashing."

"Oh? Mr. Chulanont has told me only that you and the Duke are quite close and that he is _very_ affectionate towards you---"

("Lies," Yuuri snorts.)

"---And that you are equally smitten but reluctant to return said affections. Is it true that he bought you a box full of sweets? That's awfully romantic."

Yuuri smiles at the memory, Minako doesn't miss the way his eyes light up or how a shade of Vermillion has dusted his face. 

"He did, they were lemon flavoured too."

"It relieves me to know that Lord Nikiforov was kind enough to buy you sweets based off of your preferences instead of his," Minako sighs dreamily, smiling nostalgically. "My husband bought me silk and perfume when we were courting; if he had bought me sweets, we would've been married sooner."

Yuuri can feel his smile drop, his mind banishing whatever his heart dared to impose over him. He stares glumly into the fire, the flames dance hypnotically across the logs as if they were inviting him. It was a tempting offer. 

His next words are for himself than his Godmother. "My relationship with Lord Nikiforov is....complicated."

"Oh, if that's the case......" She starts off, slowly. "I could always introduce you to him? His aunt and I are good friends from our time in college."

Yuuri gapes, "Madame, I---"

" _Properly_ , of course. Then no one would have an issue if I vouched for you, Nikiforov would be able to court you with my blessing. After all, my boy, I am a Lady and a member of High Society........"

"Madame---"

"Nonsense, Yuuri." She silences him quick with the touch of her finger. "I can tell that you have your sights set on this man (even if you choose to deny it.) I helped to raise you, do you think that I don't know your heart?"

"I suppose it's impossible to hide anything from you, Madame." Yuuri smiles fondly but his lips easily mould themselves into a scowl. "But I'm afraid that Lord Nikiforov's feelings for me is not as intense."

"Yuuri," Minako said sternly. She looked unconvinced. "Are you certain, my boy? Who you told you such a thing?"

Yuuri sighs and closes his eyes before Minako releases her wrath upon some poor soul. "I am only a passing fancy to his eyes. Though he is someone who brings me great joy and I enjoy his company very much. He is a good man (despite what the gossip columns say) but I could never allow myself to love him. I adore him more than anything but I know he's going to break my heart."

"My dear Yuuri, that can't be tr---"

"No," He holds up his hand. "There is also the matter of my profession, not _only_ as a bookseller but as a witch that works for the Council. Our worlds and our stations are completely different from each other, we could never truly be happy. Even if we chose to be together _despite_ all of it, if he were to know about me-----" Yuuri hates the words that come out of his mouth, grating against his ears and closing around his throat like a vice. Emotions bubble to the surface making his chest tighten up almost painfully. The image of those lovely blue eyes filled to the brim with revulsion and disgust tramples upon his heart; Yuuri couldn't bear it. "What if he hates me when he learns of what I am?"

"If Mr. Nikiforov cares for you truly, then I am sure that he can bear the fact that you are a witch. It is true that Witches and Human relationships are looked down upon but you wouldn't be the first couple to defy norms." 

"What if he finds me repulsive? What if he thinks I've bewitched him or that my feelings aren't genuine? He shakes his head, a wry smile upon his lips. "I....I fear I am not fortunate enough for love. Nor do I feel that I am deserving of such a thing."

"Yuuri," Minako kneels next to him, the smell of roses is comforting, enveloping him like a cape. Her hands find his face, brushing away the tears that fall from his eyes. He didn't even know he was crying. The gesture is motherly, her eyes are soft and kind, not a hint of judgment lingers there. 

"My dear, sweet, kind Yuuri. Listen to me." Yuuri can hardly bring himself to hear her words but forces himself to. "You are every bit deserving of everything in the world, you are allowed to love and be loved in return. If Lord Nikiforov saw you as a passing fancy, would he have no regard for your feelings or respect for you? From what Phichit tells me, he looks at you as you were the moon herself."

She wasn't wrong but Yuuri didn't know what to believe at that moment. Lord Nikiforov--no, Viktor---had been nothing but kind and sweet and caring; he was considerate towards Yuuri and even though Yuuri himself had been distant, Viktor had still remained, waiting patiently for him to take a step towards him. He looked at _him_ , saw him underneath the mousy glasses and messy hair, and even then, Viktor still looked at him as if he made the world glow. (But even if Yuuri returned Viktors affections, could he really count on mutual affection to be strong enough to carry them through the scrutinies and trials of society? Would it ever be enough?)

If only his life had been simpler, maybe Yuuri could allow himself to fall. But to fall was to gamble and Yuuri never had luck on his side, it would be a risky and foolish thing to hope.......yet a tiny, diminutive part of himself considered that it would be worth it. 

He needed to stop running away from his problems.

"What if his feelings for you are true?" She continues. " _Perhaps_ Lord Nikiforov is just as bad as admitting his feelings as you are at reading them?"

He feels suddenly so full, his chest is like a bathtub threatening to overflow as he absorbs her words. 

Yuuri's not sure who the bigger fool is, him or Viktor.

He needed to roll the dice and see where they landed, fate often picked up the slack when luck failed. It was time for him to gamble despite the odds.

Minako would never lie to him. She didn't have the audacity to betray his trust like that, and yet her words made him numb. He felt cold all of a sudden as if the warmth had been drained from him, it was jarring as he trembled like a leaf in his arms. The revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning, igniting something in his he thought was dead. It took him seconds to recognize that he was shaking; silent, smothered sobs erupting from his throat.

Books revered this moment as the most opportune moment in ones life, where one would gather the courage to do the impossible. Was the fear included? OR was Yuuri just over thinking matters like he always does. 

It was time. 

He couldn't put this off any longer.

"Oh," He managed to choke out. "I must be the fool."

"Yuuri, my boy. That's enough now." She hushes him, he clings to her as if he were still a child. "Everyone is a fool when it comes to these matters."


	5. A Book of Blue and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor opens the door with a flourish, an eager smile on his face. 
> 
> The only thing that greets him is the silence......and dust.

It takes Viktor only three moves to disarm Yuri.

The blade lands on the floor with a thud, echoing through the room and thus ending their match. Yuri shoots him a dirty look that would give someone else blisters but Viktor only smiles back at him, deflecting his curses easily with well-practised ease as he takes a step back. He stands up straight, blade by his side as he carefully controls his breathing. 

Yuri is exceptional with a blade, a smidge too impatient and reckless but with the proper instruction, he could easily outmatch Viktor....... if he wanted to. The young man needed a hard shove, that was all. 

The clock continues to tick in the corner, creeping ever closer to another borning hour. The face of the grandfather watches as Yuri goes to retrieve his rapier. Viktor was itching to get out of his study, another bout of paperwork and he feared he would enter his grave with an account book in hand. 

"Footwork," He reminds his cousin, tapping his boots for extra measure. He weaves quickly out of the way when Yuri tries to swipe at him. _Just like a cat,_ Viktor thought amused. "Your aggressiveness is noted but your footwork leaves much to be desired."

"That's a load of horseshit," Yuri growls, picking up his sabre. "Again."

"Language, young man." Viktor huffs, brushing the strands of hair that were stuck to his forehead. Sweat dewed on his face, making his forehead larger than it seemed. He had no intention of accidentally blinding one of the staff with his forehead. "It's nearly noon, Yura. I have to——"

"Again, Viktor."

"Yura," He whines. 

" _Now_ , old man!"

Viktor has learned that his cousin was relentless when it came to wanting something, his determination and drive were something to be admired yet he wasn't sure if it was a byproduct of his age or just his natural temper. He betted on the latter.

"So demanding." He lifts his sabre, feet poised and arms angled. In theory, Yuri's form is the definition of textbook perfect but a quick glance yields the slight hesitation to Viktors eyes.

Viktor considered himself decent enough, his time at the academy had done well to improve his skills. Lilia often regarded his form with some criticism, as was expected from a former prima ballerina. In the future, perhaps Yuri would be able to beat him but for now, Viktor would do his best to teach Yuri some new techniques.

"En garde, you son of a—-"

Three knocks interrupt Yuri before he can finish his proposition. Viktor is thankful and relieved for the short break. He dropped his arm quickly, his sword falling to his side.

He felt sweat gather near the hollow of his shoulder blades, cooling quickly and causing his shirt to stick again his skin, irritating him. Combine this lesson with his brat of a cousin (and he means that in a kind and endearing manner,) he considered asking his butler to make him some tea to aleve his growing headache.

"Enter!"

The head butler glides in, head held high and eyes sharp behind a pair of wire glasses. In his hand had are two envelopes with gold wax and red ribbons. Viktor had been unsure if the gold wax would be considered too gaudy but he had been reminded by his aunt and uncle that it was the first ball of the season, some oppulance would be good if not necessary. 

"Young Master Yuri, Master Nikiforov," he greeted pleasantly. "I hope I'm not interrupting your lesson."

"No, of course not. We're almost done." Viktor steps off the mats of the training room, his boot-clad boots echoing across the wooden floors. "It's almost noon."

"Is there anything that you require, Brighton?" Yuri asks, his tone as scathing as his temper. He still holds the Sabre in his hand, poised and ready to start a match that hasn't even begun. His eyes don't move away from Viktor.

"I have two of the invitations that you asked for, Master Nikiforov," He holds them out, ignoring Yuri's previous question with a stony face.

Viktor is quick to leave the practice mats, his feet are practically floating as he makes his way to the butler, pulling off his gloves as he takes the invites from his gloved hands.

"Thank you, Brighton," Viktor grins. "That will be all. Could you prep some tea, I'll take it in my study."

Brighton bows stiffly, eyes as cold as the grave and lips permanently pressed into a thin line as he casts a look towards Yuri before disappearing down the hall. The air is positively chilly between them, Viktor can only smile at his feet and focus on a scratch on the floor till the door closes. He never knew what Yuri did to anger the elder gentleman but based on the glare he was giving him, he could only assume it was something terrible. Viktor wondered if Yuri had ruined Brighton's favourite pair of gloves or steal his favourite hat to garner such treatment from the sweet old man.

"I swear that man has it out for me," Yuri hisses once the door clicks shut.

"Brighton is an old man," Viktor chuckles, ruffling his hair as he walks past. "Perhaps if you kinder to him, he might not want to slit your throat in your sleep."

"Tch. He started it." 

"So you say, Yura." 

Yuri ignores him, his eyes are trained on the invitations in Viktor's hand. He sneers. "I'm going to assume that one if for that nobody you're seeing? If he has any common sense, he'll say no"

Viktor rolls his eyes, knowing well that Yuri didn't mean an ounce of what he said. "Mr. Katsuki is _not_ some nobody---"

"Wonderful, he has the same name as me." Yuri interrupted.

"---And if I'm not mistaken, you snuck out an invitation for dear Mr. Altin." Viktor could hardly refuse the chance to tease his cousin. He smirks as his face turns pink. "Aren't you being just a tad bit hypocritical, Yura?"

"How did you----?" Yuri then colours scarlet, his eyes blown wide and his mouth agape. " _Lilia!_ "

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Viktor winks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. The corner of his mouth tugs up into a smirk that irks Yuri further, the young man's face turns practically purple. He holds up one of the invitations waving it in front of Yuri, baiting him like a fish. "I'll keep your secret if you keep mine, cousin."

Yuri begrudgingly moves away from his spot, carefully placing his practice foil atop one of the racks that line the wall. He turns, swiftly plucking the invitation from Viktor's hands, his golden hair following his movements as he brushes past Viktor.

"I'll get you next time, _cousin,_ " He hisses at the door just before he leaves. Viktor can't help the smile that appears on his face at Yuri's words. "Mark my words."

"I'm counting on it!" Viktor said, unphased by his cousin's hostility. "Tell Mr. Altin I said hello!"

 

 

Spring was at its peak, and it was a perfect day for a pleasant stroll. This part of the city was lively, bustling with activity and warmth. Viktor didn't like the idea of sitting in a stuffy carriage when he could be out and about enjoying the flowers that bloomed so beautifully. The fallen petals from the trees that line the street laid out a winding path for him, guiding him into the heart of the city and to the source of his fluttering heart. He passed by several floral shops with bright and beautiful displays present in their window, a bouquet of red tulips caught his eyes. It was springtime, after all, the season of love and romance and courting gifts and other things of that nature. Many young men and women were scuttling in and out of shops to buy flowers for their sweethearts and Viktor didn't want to be left out.

He recalled that Yuuri was fond of tulips, especially red ones. Three months ago, Yuuri had given him a blue rose tucked carefully between the pages of a book. He didn't notice it until he had opened the book. The petals had been slightly crushed and so was the ribbon that wrapped around its stalk but it was still beautiful. Viktor set it on his nightstand and every time he gazed at it, he could imagine that Yuuri was there with him. He didn't dream for those few nights, blissfully able to sleep. Yuuri had slipped him flowers when he thought the elder gentleman wasn't looking and Viktor only pretended that he didn't notice because he found it absolutely endearing. 

It was their little secret. 

Viktor was extremely fond of flowers, something that he had inherited from his late mother. He recalled his mother saying that flowers were the most romantic gift you could give anybody, it was because they lasted a finite amount of time, making them precious and dear.

Viktor wondered if his mother would've liked Yuuri. At a glance, their personalities were polar opposites but Yuuri possessed the clever wit of his mother and her fighting spirit. He had lovely eyes too, bright and full of life just like he remembered his mother's had been. 

He felt the sharp sting of tears as he thought of his mother, twenty years later and Viktor could keenly feel her absence. Some wounds would never heal, and Viktor knew that he ran deep as a ravine. Yuuri made it easier to forget the ache in his heart, he knew that his mother's disappearance would never really heal his broken heart but with Yuuri by his side, it gave Viktor a little more peace and some hope. One day, Viktor would be able to think about her without tears pooling in his eyes.

"Do you think I should buy them, Makka?" He asks his companion. Makkachin lets out a soft bark, pawing at the ground and distracted by a grouping of pigeons. Viktor sighs, giving her leash a small tug. "Your opinion means so much to me, dear friend," Viktor said sarcastically as he enters the flower shop.

He decided to buy them. It would be a shame to let such a pretty display of flowers wilt and he knew that Yuuri would appreciate the flowers. (He deserved to have flowers delivered to him and Viktor was willing to personally deliver them to him.)

Today wasn't anything special but there didn't need to be an occasion to get Yuuri flowers. (Although he certainly wouldn't mind flirting shamelessly with Yuuri to see that familiar shade of pink he had come to love.) Viktor promised himself that he would properly court Yuuri with grace and courtesy he deserved.....as soon as he got permission. Viktor aimed to be perfect for his darling, he deserved nothing but the best of what luxury had to offer and Viktor intended to remind him of that as long as he lived. A bit overboard, it was true, but Viktor had no idea what he was doing. He only had dusty old books from Lilis'a collection and a hidden stash of romance novel he hid underneath his bed. (Christophe had tried to impart some of his wisdom on Viktor, as much as the gesture was appreciated---it was Viktor's taste.)

The shop was open, the windows decorated with romance novels and pink streamers; badly cut out paper hearts were plastered to the window that gave a stained glass effect. Viktor didn't know whose idea it was to choose the decorations but he really hoped that they understood that romance novels were a bit too on the nose for the season.....and a bit tacky.

Viktor opens the door with a flourish, an eager smile on his face. 

The only thing that greets him is the silence and dust.

"Yuuri?" He calls out when he doesn't spot his favourite bookseller. Viktor allows Makkachin to roam around the bookshop before she settles near one of the chaises and promptly dozes off, oblivious to her master. "Hello?" Viktor tries again, taking a few tentative steps into the parlour. "Is anybody here?"

The sound of frantic footfalls alerts him followed by an undignified yelp as Leo springs from the back room. He's dishevelled, hair askew and face flushed. Viktor chooses not to say anything about the state of his clothes or the barely hidden marks peeking from the collar of his shirt. It wasn't his place to practice what he preached. (No doubt that Mr. Ji was hidden in the back room. It seemed it was the season of love after all.)

"Lord Nikiforov!"

"Leo!" Viktor greets him, ignoring the state of his shirt. "Glad to see that you are......well."

"Yes, Thank you, Lord Nikiforov." The young man replies, straightening his back. His expression morphs back to his usual cheery exterior despite his face remaining as red as the tulips in Viktor's hand. "Mr. Katsuki is out for the day."

"Oh," Viktor hides his disappointment easily. The red tulips feel heavy in his hands, like lead. "Will he be back soon?" He asks, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot.

(Now, he just feels foolish.)

"I'm afraid not, he's in Greenbrooke." Leo clasps his hands. " Is there anything I can do for you instead, Lord Nikiforov."

"Other than being able to magically transport me to Greenbrooke, I'm afraid nothing," Leo chuckles nervously. He holds up the small bouquet placing them on the table and then reaches into his coat, "But perhaps you could give him these flowers?"

"Of course," Leo said. "Oh, how did you know Yuuri liked tulips?"

The corner of his lip quirked up. "A little birdie told me."

"Ah, yes." He rolled his eyes playfully. "What a peculiar bird."

"Birds aside, could you ensure that this makes it to Yuuri as soon as he returns," Viktor asked him. "It's of the utmost importance that he receives it."

He hands the envelope to Leo's waiting hands, the gold wax seal reflects softly, winking briefly before it is taken away. Viktor would have rather given this to Yuuri in person but he cannot help the circumstances, he can only trust that Leo will deliver on his promise. It seems Viktor will have to spend his time waiting for Yuuri Katsuki, after all. No surprise there.

Pity.

"Don't worry," Leo assured him with a smile that was meant to reassure him. "I'll make sure that Yuuri will receive it the moment he returns."

"Thank you, Leo."

"Anytime, Lord Nikiforov!" He chirped, waving as he disappeared into the back room, smiling like a fool. "If you need any assistance don't hesitate to call me," Leo said before ducking away.

"Of course," He waved, still smiling. 

He was just as eager to end the conversation. Viktor had always been awkward when his charm failed him. Viktor let his smile drop as he wondered the shop, looking for something of value in this stacks of books. There was something about dusty old bookshops that made Viktor feel like a giddy child in a sweets shop.

Makkachin snored lightly, making herself home while Viktor perused through one of the back aisles. It was a part of the store that not many people went into, dusty and cramped, there was no doubt that this is where old and forgotten books went to die. There was something almost tragic about, each book was like a little piece of a person; the blood had formed the ink and their body, the cover. Forgetting a book was akin to forgetting somebody.

This was one part of the bookstore he had been forbidden to go into; the one and only time he had been here was with Yuuri, which was the only revelry. Normally, he settled in his usual chair as he watched Yuuri picked up and reshelved books, dust springing into the air every time he pulled a particularly old tome out of the place it had been trapped, admiring and longing because he liked to torture himself. Yuuri had once told him that he considered it merciful to bring back these books back into the light rather than letting them waste away; some of the books that Yuuri have given Viktor came from here. The most obscure stories with authors who he had hardly ever heard of, some may call him a bit of a bohemian for finding the work good but it was just Yuuri's immaculate taste in books imprinted upon Viktor.

However, despite the smell of faded leather and the musty smell of old, yellowed pages; there was one book that stood out to him the most. A single blue book, bright as a robins egg and completely out of place. Its spine had no words, only a winding pattern of gold that seemed to glow despite how dimly lit the space around it was. Viktor had always found his sight snatched away by it as if it were beckoning him as a siren would its unsuspecting prey.

Yuuri always touched it, his nimble fingers dancing across the spine. It was a nervous tick of his whenever he and Viktor spent some time in this part of the shop, he always stood in front of it as if he were protecting the book from Viktor. (Or maybe, now that he considered it, was Yuuri protecting _Viktor_ from the book?) Viktor never really understood why he did that, and it confused him but he had refrained from asking any questions. What could be so special about that book? Certainly not just the colour or the gold, it must've been of high value but there was no name printed upon the spine to indicate it's use.

He glanced behind him, feeling like some thief as his feet took him closer and closer to the book. It felt wrong. A part of him felt like he was betraying Yuuri's already trust by being here, it felt wrong to gaze upon the blue book but Viktor couldn't help himself. There was pull that could not be explained by any logical reasoning other than pure instinct and an unhealthy curiosity. He reached out, his fingertips only centimetres away from the leathery surface.

 _Touch it_ , something whispered seductively to him in his mind. Look how beautiful it is, so blue. Just like your eyes.

It's strange to say but it was calling to him, tempting him with a silent siren song.

_Don't you want to know what the fuss is about, little human? What your darling Yuuri hides from you?_

All he had to do was touch it.

(But why was that so important?)

Something flutters, too quick for him to catch it. Before he can turn his head to examine it, a voice as sweet as honey murmurs into his ear followed by laughter that chimed like little bells.

 _It would be over soon_ , he thought hazily, _No more secrets, no more lies. You and he can finally be happy........_

It was really a lovely shade of blue, reminding Viktor of the sky. He wondered if Yuuri picked out the colour because of him, it was close to the colour of his eyes. He preened at the thought, regardless of how narcissistic it may have been.

_Yuuri never lets us play with humans. Won't you let us have fun, all you have to do is---_

"Yuuri---" He snaps himself out of the haze with a gasp and quickly backs away. "I must be going crazy," Viktor muttered to himself. He holds his hands close to his chest, shaking his head from the strange bout of tunnel vision. Honestly, what was he expecting? "A few days without seeing Yuuri and you're such a mess. Get yourself together, Nikiforov."

Viktor steps away from the book with a frustrated groan, he turns sharply refusing to look at the blue spine. He puts some good distance from himself and the book. He considers telling Leo goodbye as he grabs his coat and hat but he quickly turns from the idea, he wanted no part in his little affair nor did he want to stumble into their little rendezvous. Makkachin whines when Viktor tries waking her, turning onto her side and dozing off once more.

(So much for leaving.)

A book lays on one of the tables, well worn and dog-eared. He picks it up reluctantly and sinks into one of the chairs, facing away from the shelf with the book. He reads only for a minute, turning his thoughts till they churn like violent waves. Viktor shifts in his seat, refusing to look at the clock but the words are barely registering. 

' _Curiosity kills the cat._ ' Viktor told himself. 

He groans and gets up with a huff. It eats at him like termites, he needs to _know._

Viktor stalks towards the book. He not sure why but he squeezes his eyes shut as he pushed forward, his palm pressed against the spine. ' _But satisfaction brought it back,_ ' the same voice as before replied.

He's not sure what he's expecting. He just had a strong feeling, an instinct that tells him that something is wrong and it had everything to do with his beloved Yuuri. Viktor has never been the type of person to follow the rules and he wasn't about to break his streak now. 

At first, he felt absolutely nothing. Just the cold feeling of soft leather and the shelf as it rattled slightly underneath his palm. It's silent except for his breathing and the muffled sound of the city through the thick walls. 

Nothing.

Absolutely _nothing._

Viktor is a paranoid idiot, his nerves like live wires and his mind whispering absurd theories. 

(Yuuri would most likely laugh at him.) 

He considers pulling away when he feels a sharp pain starting from his chest and radiating outward, his skin tingles like a thousand needles pricking at his skin and he barely conceals a cry when he sinks to the floor---his hand remains on the book as if his skin had been seared to the soft spide. Voices start to buzz in his ears like a swarm of angry bees, gleeful and loud. 

Then, like flames licking at his skin, his souls burns and everything turns white before his eyes.


	6. Soon, My Dear. Soon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm back!" He called as he entered, quickly shedding his coat and gloves. "Phichit! Leo! Mrs. Leroy?"
> 
> Nothing. It was silent as a grave, the desk was unmanned and the whole parlour was strangely empty. At least the pixes were here to greet him.

# Another Foul Murder In The Countryside: Could It Be The Work Of The Lonely Hearts Killer?

### By: Cao Bin

> The small village of Greenbrooke is hardly a place where you would suspect something ghastly and bone-chilling to happen, yet a murder of the worst kind has taken place in this small village in the countryside. The soft streams and the evergreen fields of the English countryside are tainted by scarlet. The body of Mr. Arthur Goldvein was found dead only three days ago.
> 
> Mr. Goldvein (Aged 50), a father of three and married to Mrs. Phillia Greer Goldvein (aged 45), was found dead by his youngest son, Eli Goldvein (aged 13.) The young boy quickly alerted the authorities who then proceeded to alert the neighbours who heard the commotion were swiftly roused from sleep.
> 
>  _"It was awful and the smell was even worse, the whole village could smell it. I only caught a glance of it because of the cops but it's something you'll never forget."_ said Bernie Hardcourt, a local farmhand. _"Blood everywhere, the whole workshop was just covered in it. I've never seen so much blood in my life."_
> 
> What is even more chilling is the results of the autopsy which states that the victim showed no signs of struggle, which suggests that he had been mercifully unconscious when he was murdered. There were also strong signs of mutilation as well as several fatally placed stab wounds. Reports vary and eyewitnesses have claimed a great number of things, from ancient witch curses to government conspiracies, however, many agree that the sight is eerily familiar of Marie Tambaram.
> 
> Police have allowed no pictures to be taken nor did they allow anyone to enter the crime scene, those who have were brought in for questioning. 
> 
> _"We are still investigating at this moment. Local authorities are willing to cooperate and soon, we will bring the full force of the law upon this miscreant."_ The Police Commissioner said, commenting about the village [Greenbrooke] and the investigation. When asked if there were any more leads regarding the Lonely Hearts killer, he said: _"As of the moment, The Lonely Hearts Killer is yet to be caught but we will catch him. There is no further comment on the ongoing investigation."_
> 
> Authorities still say that it is too early to conclude if this is the work of the serial killer based on location and death but it certainly cannot be ruled out. It seems that this city is facing a demon that hides not only in the shadows if the city but in the silence of the countryside.
>
>> ### 
>> 
>> Yuuri felt like his stomach was rolling, threatening to cough up the remnants of his breakfast. He always did hate reading articles or murder and such, especially the ones where he was present for said murder. The papers always got it wrong but he begrudgingly admitted that they were onto something, the human authorities had no idea what they were dealing but then again, neither did the council.
>> 
>> He huffed and leaned back against the lumpy seats. Yuuri pursed his lips at the thought, how was it possible that there was such little help?
>> 
>> The Council was getting sloppy, their agents spread thin and the other Supernaturals weren't willing to help. (Yet.) It really was a hopeless situation. Vampires had families, Werewolves had clans, and Fairies had their courts. Witches only had The Council to delegate and assist in their affairs. If he really wanted to get specific, there was too much history. Witches had a fairly decent reputation but Yuuri knew that it wasn't always like that. Faries were no better with their tricky words and glittering queens, you could never fully trust them without being tricked.....or worse. Werewolf clans tended to feud with each other, leaving little room to worry about others and even if they cared (which they definitely didn't) there would be no way to ask for help without ending up in hot water. Vampires were too selfish, they liked to keep to themselves and revelled in the entertainment of other Supernaturals. 
>> 
>> Naturally, there had been years of feuds and skirmishes with other Supernaturals but at the mortals started to take over with their fancy machines and endless curiosity, Supernaturals had nowhere to go but underground and to each other. The world of Supernaturals was complex, a mechanism with a multitude of cogs that turned regardless of how much they rusted. 
>> 
>> He folds the newspaper, setting it down on the seat next to him and proceeds to look out the window hoping that his stomach would settle but the rocking of the cab only made it worse. Being back in the city felt jarring, the green of the countryside had been replaced by a dull monotonous shade of grey and the rolling slopes gave way to unevenly paved streets. If there was any comfort (and there was very little,) he could go back to Leroy's Book Emporium and hope to see Viktor again.
>> 
>> As Yuuri watched people make their way through their lives, he wondered which one of them could be the killer. Was it the last woman with the hat? Or was it the man selling oranges? Maybe it was the beggar on the corner of the street? There was no way to tell and that was terrifying, he could only wait with snatched breath for the Lonely Hearts killer to make their next move.
>> 
>> And Yuuri could only be ready to face the trail he had left behind.
>> 
>> The cab stopped, jerking as the chaise underneath him made a sound of protest. Yuuri quickly got out, eager to stretch his legs before they atrophied away. He paid the cabby wordlessly, handing him a bundle of sage instead of coins. Yuuri watched his sharp nose twitch, the yellow eyes greedily taking in the bundle of sage, clearly satisfied enough that he didn't hex Yuuri. The cabby scuttled off wordlessly with the sharp sound of his whip, his cab hissing at whatever blocked its way. It would be amusing if the thought of a giant spider didn't make his skin crawl.
>> 
>> He shuddered and turned around. Being back to the Leroy's Magical Book Emporium soothed his anxieties for the meanwhile; even if there was a horrendous display of romance spell books and pink streamers in the shop window, he loved the sight of it. 
>> 
>> "I'm back!" He called as he entered, quickly shedding his coat and gloves. "Phichit! Leo! Mrs. Leroy?"
>> 
>> Nothing. It was silent as a grave, the desk was unmanned and the whole parlour was strangely empty. At least the pixes were here to greet him. They quickly caught his scent and fluttered towards him with toothy smiles. Several of them settled on his shoulders, whispering so softly that he could barely hear them. He didn't have the patience to listen and hoped they would forgive his weariness. 
>> 
>> _Odd_ , Yuuri thought as his swipes his finger over the dusty surface of the counter, _I thought I told Leo to dust this place._
>> 
>> "Oh, Yuuri!?" He heads Phichit call from the back room. "Is that you?"
>> 
>> He walks to the backroom, greeting the tiny pixies as they gather around him. They glowed brightly as stars as they chitter into his ear, he assumed that they were more interested in the sweets that were in his pocket rather than him. Two of them tried crawling into his pockets, in search of salted caramel or lemon drops. Instead, he drops a bag of strawberries he had picked out on the way on the desk, the pixies abandoned his hair and pockets for the strips of dried fruit and candy. 
>> 
>> "Are you slacking off again?" He asked as removed his knit cap, his hair falling softly as he shook his head in amusement. "It's so dusty in here!"
>> 
>> The back room is a small area with a high ceiling and even smaller winder on the farthest wall. Boxes lined the perimeters, stacked precariously atop each other and the only piece of furniture was a small chaise that was tucked between the window and a thin bookshelf that looked ready to tilt over. It smelled old, ancient and mystic as if the books had rotted away and seeped into the floor. He didn't mind the smell, he liked it. Yuuri had spent many nights in this very room, practising his magic until the crack of dawn.
>> 
>> Phichit and Leo sat close together atop two crates, ignoring the smoke that seeped through the gaps of the planks. Both of them had their heads bent over a newspaper, quietly whispering to each other. Yuuri assumed it was the gossip column, both of them loved to be such busybodies and high society gossip always made its way into their mouths.
>> 
>> Otabek had prepared tea, pouring into four cups as if he had anticipated Yuuri's arrival. He nodded at Yuuri, silently greeting him before adding two cubes of sugar.
>> 
>> "What's that?" Yuuri gestured to the letter in Phichits lap. "Is it from The Council? It seems awfully grand." Phichit looked up at Yuuri, smiling too wide. Leo shot him a smirk, refusing to say anything else. " _What?_ "
>> 
>> "Hello, Yuuri. Fancy to see you here----"
>> 
>> "Do you know who came in yesterday looking for you?" Leo asked, mischievously.
>> 
>> Yuuri felt his stomach drop, the contents of his breakfast threatening to come up with a vengeance yet again. Butterflies fluttered wildly inside his stomach, this time because of a silver-haired duke and a pair of lovely blue eyes. "I'm assuming Lord Nikiforov." He said.
>> 
>> "You assume correctly." Phichit held out the letter, the golden seal that sealed away the contents shimmered like a polished gold coin. "You're a lucky man, Yuuri."
>> 
>> The cream coloured envelope looked heavy and grand, something that only came out of the pockets of those who had more money than what they knew to do with. Yuuri knew the familiar scrawl of letters written on the front, his name in Viktor's hand; he could only dream of what it meant.
>> 
>> And it was for him.
>> 
>> From _Viktor._
>> 
>> "Oh."
>> 
>> "By Oberyn's Crown, Yuuri!" Phichit squeals, leaning across the chaise with a grin so bright that it put the fairies to shame. He holds out the envelope to Yuuri like a cat bringing home a dead bird, his eyes glittering with excitement. For whom, he didn't know. "Viktor Nikiforov himself invited you to a ball and all you can say is ' _oh?!_ '"
>> 
>> He takes the envelope with the slight tremble of his hand, staring down at it in disbelief. Yuuri flips over the thick envelope, once and then twice, ensuring that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He can't help but think that this was all just one unfortunately timed coincidence. 
>> 
>> It was only a few nights ago that Yuuri had confronted the extent of his feeling in front of the fireplace. He still felt raw from that startling realization. And now...... "It has been a very few strange days," He whispered, he looks up at Phichit with scared and watery eyes, not knowing why his insecurities took over him at that moment. "And now this."
>> 
>> "Yuuri?"
>> 
>> He felt the familiar sting of tears. "Or maybe it's a cruel joke."
>> 
>> "That's not true," Phichit huffed.
>> 
>> "Oh, Phichit," Yuuri said, placing the letter down. "What if I can't? What if this is a test?"
>> 
>> Phichit and Leo give him anguished looks, silently begging him. But what they're begging him for isn't clear, he just knows he can't let his anxieties win over him. Especially not now.
>> 
>> Yuuri's always had a fragile heart, glassy and clear, it had been considered his greatest weakness. (It was one of the many reasons to why the Council had kept him out of their affairs, talent is _nothing_ if you lack control.) Yuuri had too much on the line; his dignity, his pride, and his own heart. Going to a ball, even if it was by Viktor's invitation, seemed like more trouble than it's worth; going meant he was outing himself, both to Viktor and those who he associated with.
>> 
>> He had spent the past few nights tossing and turning, unable to sleep as he thought about Viktor and The Council. He was scared, terrified of going forward. Accepting his feeling left him shaken, admitting them would take every ounce of bravery he had. (And according to Yuuri, it wasn't much.)
>> 
>> "But Yuuri," Leo splutters. "Don't you fancy him as well?"
>> 
>> "I do but---" Yuuri gnaws on his lower lip, the doubts stirring in his mind. He closes his eyes, begging his mind to simply shut up and let him think this one through. "I just don't know how to do this and I---"
>> 
>> "Enough!" Phichit exclaims with absolute finality. "Isn't this what you wanted, Yuuri? Proof? That the Viktor Nikiforov has feelings for you that extend far beyond a simple and naive infatuation? How could he _not_ be in love with you?! He invited you to his ball! The ball of the season. He wouldn't invite you if he cared what others thought of him!" He picks up the letter, waving it in the air. "This is it! The man is so in love with you that the stars above can see it---"
>> 
>> "I know that!" Yuuri snaps. He takes a deep breath, holding it in and letting it out slowly. "Oh, Gods. I know that, Phichit," He repeats softly. "But it doesn't matter if I love him or he loves me."
>> 
>> "What in Oberyn's name do you mean----"
>> 
>> "I love him. I love him more than any of you will ever know. I love him and I know he loves me but what happens when I have to tell him what I am? If I show myself to him---the real me---do you honestly think he won't run away? What if he thinks that my feelings aren't true? I'm a witch, he's human. Can you honestly tell me that it would work?"
>> 
>> Phichit growls, dropping his glamor and glares down at Yuuri with bright silver eyes that makes a part of him wither away from his friend. His ears twitch in slight irritance as if he had finally reached his limits. Yuuri had only seen glimpses of Phichit's true Fae form, the slight curve of his ear or the way his eyes bled silver or how his words seemed ancient and riddled in a language his ears couldn't comprehend. Now Yuuri saw his friend in his full glory and for the first time in his life, he realized just how terrifying the Fae could be when they dropped their glamor. It was like staring the most beautiful nightmare in the face but for some reason you didn't want to wake up from this dream, only live through it. "That's a terrible excuse and you know it."
>> 
>> "Phichit!"
>> 
>> "You don't know that if you don't _try,_ " Phichit said, picking up the letter and pressing it into his hand. He turns around and tells Leo to fetch some biscuits, the young man complies and scurries away with glazed eyes. "For as long as he has been seeing you, has he ever given you a reason to doubt him?"
>> 
>> "No." He shakes his head numbly. "He hasn't."
>> 
>> "Has he ever done anything to you that made you uncomfortable in any way?"
>> 
>> Yuuri wracked his brain before answering. "No."
>> 
>> "Has he ever in any regard, coerced you?"
>> 
>> "No, he's been nothing but patient with me." Yuuri scrunched his eyebrows. "Viktor isn't that type of man. He's good."
>> 
>> "So maybe....You should have a little faith in him." Phichit squeezes his shoulder, the glamor wrapping around him till he resembled that of a normal human but his voice remained the same, wispy and wise. "I have lived for almost a millennia, I have seen humans fall in and out of love like it's a game. I know love when I see it, and I know when people are hiding it too." He places his palm over Yuuri's heart, feeling the slight kick of the muscular organ as Yuuri's hold down his fear and tears, refusing to let them out of their cage and run rampant. "Love has always been an obstacle for others but don't allow _others_ to be an obstacle for you."
>> 
>> In a tragic way, he is right. Yuuri nearly crumples the letting in his hand as the swell of emotions rise up from his chest and threaten to choke him. Phichit pulls him into an embrace, carding his fingers through his hair and Yuuri bites his lips, stifling any sound as he finds himself in tears for the second time in a week.
>> 
>> He's feelings are a muddled mess, like paint splattered across a canvas but somehow, in the carnage, Yuuri knows that the love he feels is absolute. It is on equal footing with his fear that fluctuates like a candle in the wind but remains as stubborn, refusing to go out.
>> 
>> Yuuri has always allowed fear to rule him, to control him.
>> 
>> No more.
>> 
>> It wasn't an easy idea, it would tear him to pieces if it could but there were moments where you risked everything and moments where you stood idle as everything raged around you like a terrible tempest.
>> 
>> Yuuri smiles weakly when Leo walks back in with a tray. The young man returns the smile and places the tray down by the register, a hot cup of tea welcomes him with its sweet aroma.
>> 
>> A promise like his future if he chooses it.
>> 
>> "I have nothing to wear," He says softly.
>> 
>> Phichit screams into his ear, pulling away from Yuuri with the brightest smile on his face. It's an uncanny picture from only a few seconds ago, it nearly gives Yuuri whiplash. He snaps his fingers, sparks flying off his fingertips and down onto the carpet floors. The pixies scatter like birds, their voices loud in his ears. He sits there, eyes wide and startled, unsure what to do as Leo returns with a full tray of biscuits. Phichit jumps up, snapping his fingers again. 
>> 
>> "We'll get in contact with Yuuko and I'll make you the belle of the ball, my dear!" He said, writing something down. "Then we'll get some new shoes!."
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> "I'm sure she's busy, Phichit." Yuuri looked down at his boots. There was a little mud caked on the edges but nothing a little polishing couldn't fix. "And my shoes are fine." Nobody seemed to hear him, least of all Phichit who kept going on about getting a carriage and finding someone to take over their shifts. He smiled down at the envelope in his hand, his fingers tracing the golden seal. 
>> 
>>  
>> 
>>  _Soon, my dear,_ He promised. _I'll give you my heart and if the gods be willing, you'll give me yours._

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr if you want to holler at me about Yuuri on Ice: [Link](https://lady-of-inklings.tumblr.com/)


End file.
